Come Down From Your Fences
by Maxiekat
Summary: You can't hold onto the past forever and sometimes you lose your friends along the way. Dally and Johnny didn't die the night of the rumble, but the gang's problems are far from over. Alternate Ending.
1. Chapter 1

**Note: I do not own The Outsiders**

**Come Down From Your Fences**

**Chapter One**

The colors were vivid and frightening, swirling and suffocating. Blacks, grays and blues merged and melted, bleeding into a deep, dark red. It was the red that was the worst. The red that pulsed and mocked. The red that was everywhere, spreading over everything. A plague that could not be stopped.

They were dead, nothing would change that. That word echoed and taunted, filling the silence.

Dead … Dead … Dead … Dead … Dead …Dead

The red flickered and snapped, transforming into flames. The heat was intense, like in the church, but not. He tried to pull away, to escape - but he couldn't. This heat was on the inside, hollowing him out until all that was left was ash.

A dark shadow passed by him. Terrified, he struck out, pushing and punching. It was coming for him. He was next.

* * *

"Ow!" Sodapop Curtis shouted as he tried to duck his younger brother's fists. This night was going from horrible to downright wretched, Soda thought. His little brother was burning up with fever, lying in an uncomfortable bed in the emergency room.

The doctor was kind, but it had been obviously a long night for him, too. They would get to Ponyboy when they could, he'd told them. Right now they had a much more serious case to deal with that required as many hands as possible - saving Dallas Winston.

Soda didn't understand how there could be anything left to save, he was certain Dally died long before that first shot had been fired. He wanted to die and Dallas Winston usually got what he wanted.

Pony quieted down, or passed out - Soda wasn't sure which. He sighed heavily and rested his head on the edge of the stiff mattress. He had his own aches and pains from the rumble, but they didn't matter.

_Rumble, hell, _Soda thought, _that was a lifetime ago. None of that matters now. _

Was it only two hours ago that they had been celebrating their victory? Only two hours ago that they had fought the socs and won, driving them from their turf? Now every minute feel like an hour and every hour felt like a day. Time had slowed to a stop the minute Pony stumbled into the house, bleeding and broken. How had everything gone to hell in such a short time?

* * *

Two-Bit Mathews was a bundle of nervous energy as he sat in the waiting room next to a nearly unconscious Steve Randle who was staring blankly at a poster on the wall. Any other time, Two-Bit would have made a wise-crack about how Steve had suddenly become so interested in breast feeding. Tonight, however, Two-Bit didn't feel too much like joking around. He didn't think he would ever feel like laughing again.

"Jeez, how can you be so calm, man?" Two-Bit jumped up and began pacing, chewing on his fingernails - a habit he seemed to have suddenly developed. A habit that reminded him of Johnny whose nails were always bitten to the quick. That thought made him stop in his tracks.

"Johnny," he whispered and Steve looked at him for the first time since they'd gotten there. Two-Bit was startled to see how red his eyes were, as though he had been crying. Greasers like him and Steve didn't cry. Greasers like him and Steve were tough, nothing ever touched them. Two-Bit looked away before Steve could see he had been close to tears, too.

Two-Bit looked at the doors leading into the emergency room. He could see Darry through the window, looking more worried than Two-Bit had ever seen anyone look. Guilt settled in Two-Bit's gut. He knew Pony was sick but he hadn't said anything. He'd kept his worries to himself and fought alongside Ponyboy in the rumble. Now Ponyboy was in the hospital and the gang was falling apart.

Jamming his fists into the pockets of his jacket, ignoring the pain in his stitched knuckles, Two-Bit hurried out of the waiting room. He had to get away from there, even if only for a moment.

Steve didn't react, simply returned his unfocused gaze to a spot on the wall.

* * *

Darry looked down at his little brother, flushed and still. The doctor had finally spared them a moment. Pony had a fever and a concussion. He wanted to keep him overnight for observation.

The doctor had blood splattered on his coat and Darry tried his damndest not to think about how it belonged to Dally. The doctor was rushed and all he would tell them was that they were prepping Dally for surgery but it didn't look good.

Ponyboy stirred in his sleep, clutching at the worn sheets. Darry reached out, smoothing back a lock of bleached hair that had fallen across his brother's forehead. "It's all my fault. I didn't think anything like this could happen." He didn't realize he had spoken out loud until he heard Sodapop give a weak laugh.

"And just what is so funny, little man?" Darry couldn't believe how exhausted his voice sounded.

Soda gave a half-hearted grin. "Oh, nothin', it's just that I could've sworn I'd heard something like that before, is all."

Darry had no idea what he was talking about, then it came to him - the words he had thrown at Pony only a week ago. Gosh, was that only one week ago?

Darry returned Sodapop's grin. "It's not my fault …" he started.

"… I didn't think," Soda finished for him.

Darry sank into a chair and hung his head, his shoulders shaking. Soda looked around, unsure of what to do. He had never seen his big brother cry, not even when they were kids. Not even when they'd gotten that horrible news eight months ago that their parents had been killed.

Soda was relieved, if not a bit alarmed, when Darry threw his head back and let out a strangled … laugh?

"Oh Soda, what am I doing? How could I have thought that I could raise you two? I'm not mom and dad, I never could be. All I've done is mess things up."

"Darry, don't talk like that. You held this family together. What do you think would've happened to me and Pony if we'd gone to a boys home?"

"I don't know, and you don't know either."

"Yeah, well I sure as hell know we would've had a good chance of ending up like Dallas Winston. Hard and mean."

Darry shook his head, looking his brother in the eye, "Sodapop Curtis, you could never have turned out mean."

* * *

Two-Bit stared at the closed door. He didn't know what had brought him here. One minute he was headed out of the waiting room for a smoke or something and the next thing he knew here he was. The room was empty, he knew that. Johnny was gone.

It was just that afternoon that he and Pony had come to this room to visit Johnny. When they had walked in, it had felt as though someone had knocked the wind out of him with a two-by-four. Johnny had looked terrible. Two-Bit would never forget the haunted fear in his dark eyes. Johnny was always scared and high strung, but this was different. He knew he was going to die and he wasn't ready. Hell, how could anybody be ready to die at 16?

When Ponyboy had stumbled into the house and made his terrible announcement, shock and disbelief had swept over him. But deep in his heart, Two-Bit knew it was going to happen. He knew the minute he had looked into Johnny's eyes.

"Can I help you?" A nurse put a hand on his shoulder, startling him so completely that he let out a yelp.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." She took a good look at him, taking in his disheveled appearance and bandaged hand and face. "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" Two-Bit asked in confusion, then he remembered the rumble and the soc's fist that had opened up his cheek. He touched the bandage. "Oh, I'm fine."

The nurse paused for a moment, obviously not believing him. It looked like she was about to say something, but she shook her head and turned to leave. Two-Bit drew in a steadying breath, reached out and touched her sleeve.

"Wait, uh, I was wondering if I could get something. A friend of mine was in this room and I was hoping I could get a book I had given him." Johnny had sure wanted to have a copy of Gone With the Wind. Two-Bit was hoping that maybe giving it to Ponyboy would help him feel better. Help him feel a connection to Johnny even though he was gone.

"Well, any personal possessions would have been moved to his new room."

"New room? No, you don't understand. Johnny died tonight." Two-Bit hated to say it out loud, the words catching in his throat.

"No," the nurse said slowly, as though she was speaking to a child. "Mr. Cade was moved to ICU."

This wasn't making any sense. "ICU?" Two-Bit repeated.

"Intensive care," she explained. "We had to move him there and put him on life support after he had a cardiac arrest a few hours ago."

"Johnny's alive?" Two-Bit asked quietly.

"Johnny's alive," the nurse answered.

"Johnny's alive!" Two-Bit repeated in a much stronger voice. He gave a loud whoop that surely woke a few patients. Before she knew what was happening, the nurse was enveloped in a big bear hug. Two-Bit lifted her off the ground and spun her around.

"Johnny's alive!" Two-Bit said one more time and then he planted a big kiss on her startled lips.

* * *

"Dally," Darry tried to speak, his voice heavy with emotion. Dallas looked dead. His face was pale, his skin looked dry and stiff, like parchment. The beeping from the machines tried to assure Darry that he was alive, but he had his doubts. "Dally," he said again with more force, hoping to rouse him, however briefly.

Dally's pale blue eyes opened slightly. Gone was the coldness that had been there since Darry had known him. All Darry could see now was resignation and defeat.

"Dally, it's about Johnny," Darry started. At the mention of Johnny's name, Dally closed his eyes and moaned. The machines started beeping. "No! Dally, hold on. Johnny's still alive, man. You've gotta fight. There's still hope."

A nurse came up behind Darry and pushed him out of the way. "We have to get him to surgery." Darry stumbled back, but not before he heard Dallas whisper a single word.

"Johnny …"


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: I do not own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 2**

Ponyboy watched him breathe. Up and down, the hiss of the ventilator punctuating every breath. Ponyboy could sit there and watch him for days. If Johnny was breathing, that meant he was alive. If he was alive, then there was still hope he would wake up.

It had been three weeks since that awful night that ended with a reprieve. Ponyboy and Dally had watched Johnny die. He had stopped breathing and his heart had stopped. He was dead.

A nurse had come in shortly after Pony stumbled from the room. She immediately assessed the situation and, calling for a doctor, began CPR. It took a few minutes, but they were able to revive Johnny. Two-Bit called it a miracle as the doctor explained the situation to the gang. "Not a miracle, son," the doctor said kindly, "medicine."

Ponyboy had been unconscious for all of this. Suffering from a fever and concussion, he didn't know he hadn't lost his best friend.

It was three days before Ponyboy had recovered enough to understand what was happening. He hadn't believed Sodapop when he told him, certain his fever was acting up again and he was hallucinating.

"Why would you say something like that? He's dead. I saw him die." Ponyboy was becoming agitated, his face leached of color.

Darry appeared in the doorway, holding the towel he was using to dry the dishes. "Pony it's the truth. We wouldn't lie to you. You know that." His voice was gentle but held that note of authority Ponyboy knew so well.

"If it's true, then I want to see him," Ponyboy insisted, his voice hitching into hysteria. Soda sighed and Darry came into the small room his brothers shared and sat on the bed.

"Ponyboy, you just woke up. You've been real sick. Give it a couple of days and we'll take you then," Darry said as he affectionately brushed Ponyboy's hair off his forehead while checking for any signs of fever.

"Well, have you guys been to see him? Is he okay?" Ponyboy noticed the quick look shared by Darry and Sodapop and dread settled in his stomach. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Pony …" Soda started, unsure of what to say. "Johnny, well, he's in a coma."

"Coma," Ponyboy repeated, not really sure what the implications were.

"The doctor can't say _when_ Johnny will wake up or even _if_ he'll wake up." Darry gripped Ponyboy's shoulder and made him meet his eyes. "Ponyboy, you have to be prepared for the fact that Johnny could still die. He's still really sick, kiddo."

Darry stayed true to his word and he and Soda took Ponyboy to the hospital two days later. His youngest brother was still recovering and the doctor had told him to stay in bed for at least a week. Darry, however, realized that until he saw Johnny for himself, Pony wouldn't relax enough to get the rest he really needed.

When they pulled up to the hospital, Ponyboy stared at the building, a rush of emotions overcoming him. How a building could fill someone with dread and hope at the same time was beyond him.

The hallways were eerily quiet as the trio made their way to the intensive care unit. Everything felt surreal to Ponyboy, like one of those scenes in the movies where the guy keeps running, trying to reach the end of the hallway but the end keeps stretching away from him.

When they finally came to the room, Ponyboy was sure they had been walking for an hour, when in reality it was only a few minutes. Soda gave him a reassuring smile, but Pony's thoughts were focused on the door and the person that lay beyond it.

He broke out in a cold sweat when Darry pushed open the door to Johnny's room. He couldn't make himself step into the room, his feet wouldn't obey. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping to steady his nerves. But all he saw were Johnny's eyes drifting closed, his chest becoming still, the life leaving his body.

"No," he said backing up into the hallway. "No, I can't. Not again." He was shaking his head and rubbing his eyes that had suddenly filled with tears. Darry took a step forward to follow him, but Soda stopped him.

"Let me," he said quietly to Darry and went over to his younger brother.

"Hey, Pony. You okay?" He put his arm around Ponyboy's shoulders, noticing the shaking that racked his thin frame. "If you're too sick, we can come back tomorrow."

Ponyboy shrugged out of his brother's embrace and leaned up against the wall. "No, that's not it. I'm just afraid, is all."

"Afraid?"

"Yeah, tuff huh?" Ponyboy gave a weak laugh as he wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "I just don't think I could stand it if Johnny dies."

"I know, but he needs us - you especially. It's scary, I know. Hell, I want nothin' more than for this to all be over. But it ain't and we all need to be there for each other. It's what friends and family do. As far as I'm concerned, I have two kid brothers - you _and_ Johnny." He gave one of his patented Sodapop Curtis smiles, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Both Soda and Darry were exhausted. He hadn't really thought much about what it must have been like for them while he'd been missing - not knowing where he was, if he was alive or dead. They'd been through hell just as much as he and Johnny had.

Ponyboy thought about everything that had happened - meeting Cherry at the movies, Darry hitting him, running away, Johnny killing that Soc, the fire, the rumble. It was like they'd crammed a lifetime into two weeks. They all needed time to heal, and this was the first step.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note: I do not own The Outsiders**

Chapter 3 

"Hey, Dal, they actually letting' you out of here?" Two-Bit ambled into the stark hospital room, surprised to see his friend dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and sitting on the edge of the bed.

Dally gave a wry smile. "They gave up tryin' to start my heart. Finally realized I don't have one."

Steve appeared in the doorway and leaned against the door jam. "I heard the judge is havin' a special hearing today just for you."

Dally's shoulders stiffened and his face grew stony. "Yeah, can't chance havin' Dallas Winston loose on the street for even one day." He grabbed his beat-up leather jacket and angrily pulled it on, wincing as he pulled his stitches. "Who knows, I might go crazy and shoot up a room full of nuns or something." He laughed, but it was a hollow, empty sound.

Steve didn't respond and Two-Bit looked at the floor, feigning an intense interest in his scuffed boots. Dally was always tough to talk to. Every encounter, even the most mundane, held an undercurrent of tension. You could never tell what would set him off and since the shooting, that unsettledness had increased tenfold.

Two-Bit was getting tired of walking on eggshells and decided to take a chance. "Maybe we could stop by Johnny's room before we leave."

Dallas hadn't been by to see Johnny and never made any mention of him. When one of the gang tried to broach the subject, Dally would either ignore them or become so agitated that he would set off the machines he was hooked up to.

At first, Dally hadn't gone because he was too sick. It had been touch and go for several days. Two bullets had hit him. The first had shattered several ribs and punctured his lung, causing it to collapse. The second bullet entered his abdomen and caused considerable damage that took forever for the surgeons to repair. The doctor told the gang that there wasn't much hope, but Dallas proved too stubborn to die.

Once he was well enough to move around, the hospital administration decided to keep him confined to his room. They were concerned about the circumstances in which he sustained his injuries and the fact that the authorities made it clear that he would be officially arrested once he was released. Everyone expected Dally to argue, but he barely acknowledged the situation.

Truthfully, he was glad the decision to visit Johnny had been taken away from him. He wasn't sure his grip on sanity would remain if he saw him.

He told everyone he didn't remember what happened the night Johnny "died", but that was a lie. Dally, the cold bastard who didn't care about anyone, had shattered into a million pieces that night. Anger, fear, despair, and hopelessness all warred within him - emotions he had always kept walled away. That wall had collapsed and Dally was flooded. He had to make it stop or he would be lost forever.

The gun was in his hand before he knew what he was doing. It was like he was watching a movie starring a guy who looked just like him, doing the unthinkable. "No, you idiot! Put the gun away!" he wanted to shout, but the guy on the screen wouldn't listen.

The first bullet scared him, the second gave him peace.

Three long weeks in a hospital bed had given him plenty of time to rebuild those walls, make them stronger, impenetrable. Every mention of Johnny, however, threatened to crumble those carefully constructed barriers. Hell, when Pony stopped by a few days ago he could barely handle it. He could feel panic start to bubble up, threatening to grip him. He needed to get out of the room, away from Ponyboy who made him remember, who made him feel.

"Ya know, Dal, it might not just be good for you to see Johnny. It could really help him out, too," Steve started to say something about people in comas being able to hear what people said to them, but a buzzing formed in Dally's ears, drowning him out.

Dally ran his fingers through his hair, silently weighing his options. He was tough, things like this didn't get to him, didn't touch him. He was a greaser; getting hurt - killed even - was a fact of life. He wouldn't let one broken, punk kid get to him. He didn't give a damn about anyone else, only himself.

"What the hell, lead the way," he said in a flat voice. Two-Bit and Steve shared a concerned glance and headed out the door.

* * *

They watched through the window as Ponyboy read to Johnny from a thick paperback. Dally couldn't hear him through the glass and he was pretty sure Johnny couldn't hear him, either.

He was lying flat on his back, a tube down his throat and a bunch of machines surrounding his bed. He looked dead. _Hell, _Dally thought, _he's as good as dead. This whole waitin' and watchin' him die was useless … a cruel joke_.

Dally spun around and pushed past Steve. "I'm outta here."

Two-Bit grabbed his arm. "He needs you."

"He doesn't need anyone." His words caused Steve to gasp in shock. Dally ignored his reaction and continued. "That ain't Johnny. He died three weeks ago. You all just can't accept that."

"Selfish bastard," Two-Bit ground out between clenched teeth.

Dallas yanked on his arm that Two-Bit still had a grip on, pulling the shorter man closer. He leaned down and whispered, "You would do well to remember that."

Dally stepped back, breaking Two-Bit's hold. Two figures approached and Dally turned towards them. It was a nurse, the one he had delighted in giving a hard time during his confinement. She was leading a cop down the hallway, obviously looking for him.

Looking back at Two-Bit and Steve, Dallas flipped up the collar of his jacket, narrowed his cold blue eyes and turned his lips up into a cruel smirk.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a date with a judge."


	4. Chapter 4

**Note: I do not own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 4**

The smoke from Ponyboy's cigarette hung in the cool autumn air as he sat alone on the steps of his front porch. The sun was setting, blanketing the rundown neighborhood in a rich, warm glow. _Golden,_ he thought with a wistful smile.

He wondered if Cherry Valance was watching the sunset tonight from her side of town. Even though they had only ever spoken a few times, he missed her. True to her word, she ignored him at school whenever they passed each other in the halls. It felt like a bandage being ripped from a raw wound every time she met his eyes and then looked away quickly.

He didn't know what to think. On one hand, he knew it took a lot of guts for her to testify at his trial and stick up for him. She'd risked ruining her reputation and losing her friends to keep him from going to juvie hall and being separated from his brothers. Cherry didn't owe him anything, while he owed her everything.

On the other hand, she had talked about her frustration at how unfair things were. How things were rough all over. _Well, _Ponyboy thought, _if we're so alike, why can't we be friends? Words lose meaning if you don't back them up with actions. Things won't change if no one takes a chance. _

It didn't make any sense. He asked Soda about it one night. He just shook his head, mumbled the word "Women" and patted him on the head.

The red of the fading sunlight was deepening to a rich purple as Ponyboy's thoughts turned to Dally. He didn't know if he had a window to watch the sunset. Probably - he was pretty sure they had windows in prison. But whether or not Dallas Winston ever even noticed a sunset was another question entirely. Ponyboy doubted it.

Sodapop and Steve came barreling up the steps, nearly trampling Ponyboy in the process. "Hey! Watch it, you herd of elephants."

"Whatcha up to, kid?" Soda asked as he flopped down next to him.

"Aw, he's just sittin' here daydreamin' like always. Useless, if you ask me," Steve said as he walked into the house, the screen door slamming behind him. Ponyboy looked over his shoulder at Steve's departing back and narrowed his eyes.

Soda playfully punched him in the arm. "Don't pay him no mind. I caught him staring at the floor today and I doubt he was thinking about cars. He would never admit it, but Steve has his useless moments just like the rest of us."

"Well, if you say so." Pony said with a laugh

"Everything okay?" Soda asked. The question had become a daily routine - it was Soda's way of finding out about Johnny. He asked the same way everyday and everyday Ponyboy gave the same answer, "No change."

Soda sighed and threw his arm around his younger brother's shoulders. They sat like that as the sun finished setting and the sky grew dark and the air grew cold. Darry soon called them in for dinner. Together, they walked inside - hopeful that tomorrow would bring a different answer, certain that it wouldn't.


	5. Chapter 5

**Note: I do not own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 5**

"Ponyboy Curtis and Keith Mathews, please report to the Principal's office." The tinny voice of the school secretary split through the silence of fifth period history class as the announcement was made over the school's PA system. Ponyboy's pencil froze in mid-sentence, his answer to the test question forgotten.

The guy behind him, a soc, kicked his chair and started to snicker. Pony pushed his chair back into the guy's knee and whispered, "Quit it, man." Suddenly, his teacher appeared next to his desk, a hall pass in his hand.

"But the test, Mr. McKay." Ponyboy couldn't believe he was actually begging to stay in class and finish a test, but a test sure as hell beat the Principal's office. Nothing good ever happened there.

"I'm sorry, Ponyboy, but you have to go. You can finish the test later." He handed him the slip and Pony grabbed his books and left the classroom.

He walked slowly down the hall, trying to prolong the meeting he was dreading. Mr. Clark scared him, plain and simple. Whenever he was around him he felt guilty, even if there was nothing for him to feel guilty about.

He tried to think of what he could have possibly done that would cause him to be called to the office and couldn't come up with anything. Two-Bit, now there's a different story. Pony wasn't even sure if Two-Bit was still in school, he usually skipped out by fourth period.

Butterflies settled in his stomach when he reached his destination. He took a steadying breath and schooled his features into what he hoped was his best "_I don't care about this shit"_ expression Dally told him to use whenever confronted with cops, girls, or the principal. Although he was pretty sure what it really conveyed was "_I really shouldn't of had that second hot dog at lunch_".

* * *

Pony was surprised to see Two-Bit was already there, sitting in one of the ugly, orange chairs. Actually, lounging was more like it. Pony couldn't believe how relaxed he looked. 

Two-Bit gave him a huge grin. "Howdy, Pone. Fancy meetin' you here."

Ponyboy slumped into the adjoining chair. "Hey, _Keith_," he said, stressing the name Two-Bit hated. Two-Bit's response was a quick slap across the back of Pony's head, which earned him a scolding glare from the secretary who was sitting across from them.

Fixing his hair, Pony leaned over and whispered, "So, what did you do, man? And how did I get mixed up in it?"

"Geez, Pony. Have a little faith, OK. I don't know why they called us. I mean there was … naw, they can't know about that yet."

"Know about what? Two-Bit, I swear …" Pony didn't finish, his words trailing off when the door to the guidance counselor's office opened. He didn't think he'd ever seen anyone actually walk in slow motion before, but that's what it looked like when Cherry stepped through the doorway. She was laughing at something the counselor was saying, a stack of college brochures cradled in her arms. She pushed her red hair behind her shoulder, a gesture that was so feminine, so _Cherry_, that Pony felt a cold sweat breakout on his brow.

He was standing up before he knew what was happening. Ignoring Two-Bit's whispered "go get her, kid", Pony made his way over to her. Cherry had her hand on the door handle when he reached her. He wished he'd stayed in his seat when he saw her shoulders slump.

"Pony, no," she said softly.

"Cherry, can't we at least talk?" Ponyboy winced as he said it. He didn't sound tough. He sounded like such a loser - begging a girl to give him the time of day.

Slowly, she turned around and looked him in the eyes. She looked so sweet and earnest that Ponyboy felt his breath catch.

"Ponyboy, with Bob and everything that happened, I just can't be friends with you right now." _Well, _Pony thought, _that was certainly to the point. _

"Maybe in a few months … I don't know," she continued. "Right now everything is still really raw, you dig?"

"Yeah, I dig. You don't want your friends to see you with a greaser. Wouldn't want to ruin your reputation." Pony knew he sounded like a petulant child, but he couldn't make himself stop. He turned on his heel and headed back to his chair.

He could feel her eyes on him, but he ignored her. Slouched in the chair with his arms crossed, he looked straight ahead, willing Principal Clark's door to open so that he could get out of this stifling room. The bell for the next class rang. Cherry paused at the door for a moment longer before stepping into the busy hallway.

As soon as she left, Two-Bit chuckled and said, "What was that all about?"

Ponyboy shrugged and said, "Women."

The intercom buzzed on the secretary's desk. She looked up at them. "Boys, you can head on in now."

* * *

Two-Bit had a huge grin on his face as they entered the office. "Hey, Jim, how's it hangin'?" 

"Keith, have a seat, please. You too, Ponyboy." Principal Clark was a large and imposing man. Two-Bit apparently felt no fear around the man, but he intimidated the hell out of Ponyboy.

"I'm sure you're wondering why you're here -"

"I didn't do it," Two-Bit interrupted. "Well, okay, I may have done it - but Pony is innocent."

"Keith," Mr. Clark sighed, "I suggest you quit while you're ahead. You're not here because you've done something wrong."

Pony and Two-Bit exchanged a startled glance.

"Um, sir, why are we here?" Ponyboy asked cautiously.

"Your brother will explain everything, he called to let us know he's on his way." As if on cue, the door opened and Darry stepped into the office. Mr. Clark stepped over to him, greeting him warmly.

It took a few moments for Ponyboy to process the fact that his brother was standing here in the middle of a school day. Darry would never miss a day of work unless something really terrible had happened. Something like what happened to their parents.

"Darry …" he started, but Darry was busy talking to Mr. Clark.

_Bet Darry never caused any problems when he went here_, Pony thought. _He was a dream student - straight A's, football star, perfect future laid out before him. Amazing how a split second can bring everything to a screeching halt._

Darry felt awkward standing there, carrying on a conversation while his little brother looked on, obviously anxious to hear what he had to say. He couldn't find a way to get away from the guy who obviously still clung to the past. He'd graduated two years ago, leaving behind his football dreams. He'd moved on, it wasn't worth dredging it all up again.

He caught a glimpse of Pony's face. It was pale, stricken – like when Soda suggested bologna for lunch the other day. He cleared his throat, hoping to interrupt his former principal.

"Well, give it some thought and get in touch with me next week." Mr. Clark said, extending his hand.

"Um, yes, sir. I will do that," Darry had no idea what he just agreed to as he shook the older man's offered hand.

Pony caught bits and pieces of their conversation. It seemed to revolve around football and he thought he heard something about an assistant coach. Whatever it was, Ponyboy was certain it wasn't about him. He shifted nervously in his chair, accidentally knocking a cup of pens over on the desk. That caught their attention.

Mr. Clark rushed over, gathered up his pens and cleared his throat. "Sorry about that, boys. Darry here was a star pupil in his day and we just got a little caught up in reminiscing."

Pony couldn't stand the wait any longer. "Darry, is something wrong? Is Soda hurt? Why aren't you at work?"

Darry kneeled next to Ponyboy's chair, looking him in the eye. "Easy, Pony. Soda's fine. I'm here about Johnny."


	6. Chapter 6

**Note: I do not own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 6**

Crammed between Two-Bit and Darry in the front seat of his brother's pick-up truck, Ponyboy couldn't get his leg to stop shaking. His fingers were tapping a frantic beat on the books he held in his lap. _Heart racing, shallow breathing - at this rate I'm gonna die of a heart attack before we even get to the hospital,_ he thought morosely.

"Glory, Pony. Will you quit it, you're makin' me nervous," Darry said in exasperation.

"What _exactly_ did the hospital say?" Ponyboy asked.

"I've already told you."

"I know …"

"Three times."

"Humor me."

"Fine - they called and said Johnny's awake and he's askin' for you."

"And that's all they said? You're sure?"

Darry slowed the truck to a stop at a red light.

"Pony …" Darry sighed, resting his forehead against the steering wheel. "We have twenty more minutes before we reach the hospital. Please -"

"I know. I know. I'm sorry. It's just, well, it's been two months, ya know?"

Darry raised his head and reached over, placing a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. "I know, kiddo."

Pony wanted to explain, but he couldn't put it into words. He was actually afraid to see his best friend. It felt like he was letting Johnny down somehow.

"I don't know what to say. How will he be? I mean, what if -"

Two-Bit interrupted his disjointed ramblings. "Don't ya think it's better to get there first before you start worryin'. Then you can worry all you want if there's anything worth worryin' about. Ya dig?"

They both stared at him in silence - Pony in confusion and Darry in stunned disbelief because it actually, somehow, made sense. The light changed. Darry didn't notice and a horn sounded behind them.

Two-Bit gestured toward the windshield and grinned. "Light's green. Time's a wastin'."

* * *

A few miles later, Two-Bit started looking around the truck as though he misplaced something. 

"So, Darry, did Soda and Steve not warrant an invitation, or what?" he asked.

"Soda's at work," Darry explained, "and Steve didn't go to school and he won't be able to make it today."

"What do you mean by that? Did you ground him or something?" Pony asked, momentarily distracted from his thoughts about Johnny.

Darry ignored the second part of Pony's question. "I stopped home first before I came to get you guys. I found Steve passed out on our couch. Looked like he'd been there most of the day."

"Passed out?"

"Yeah, he had a run-in with his old man this morning. He didn't handle it real well." Darry told them, feeling a bit uncomfortable, like he was passing along gossip. But they all knew what Steve's relationship with his dad was like - they were always at each others' throats.

The tension between them was constant, arguments springing out of the stupidest things. It didn't help that they both had hair-trigger tempers. Pony didn't think Steve's dad hit him - it wasn't like what Johnny lived with. Sometimes, though, words can hurt just as much as fists.

"So, how _did _he handle it?" Ponyboy asked, feeling like he needed a crowbar to pry the details from Darry.

"Well, let me put it this way - Two-Bit, I'm afraid you're gonna have to restock the fridge."

"No …" Two-Bit looked stricken.

"'Fraid so."

"Don't worry," Pony said with a huge grin, "we've always got plenty of chocolate milk."

"Kid, that's just about the cruelest thing anyone's ever said to me."

0

0

_A/N: Well, at least it's not a cliffhanger _:)_. I promise, I'll get to Johnny in the next chapter. _

_I just wanted to thank everyone again for the reviews - especially Marauder and the Q and marsonfire, your enthusiasm has been inspiring. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Note: I do not own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 7**

Johnny slowly opened his eyes. The light was blinding and disorienting. He couldn't tell if it was day or night - every time he woke up the damn light was shining in his face.

It took him a few minutes to remember where he was, why he couldn't move, then it came back to him in a rush. The fire, the pain, the fear. Then there had been the silence and the darkness, like he was floating in nothingness.

The doc told him he'd been in a coma for almost two months. At first, he thought the guy was lying to him. It felt like only minutes had passed since Pony and Dally had come into his room. But the more he thought about it, the more it felt like a lifetime had come and gone, like he'd aged a hundred years.

A second chance, the doc had said. _He'd been given a second chance_. Lying here, staring up at the ceiling, paralyzed from the waist down - he was having a hard time believing him. He didn't want to be scared - but he was. He was scared of being trapped in a wheelchair, of being trapped in his house with his parents, of being trapped in a life that went nowhere.

A shadow moved in the corner and Johnny realized he wasn't alone. _Probably a nurse, _he thought. He'd only been out of the coma for a few hours and he'd already realized just how much nurses loved to fuss. Fixing bandages, drawing blood, checking blood pressure - he hadn't had a moment's peace. He was already itchin' to get out of there.

Carefully, he turned his head toward the corner. His mind was moving sluggishly and it took him a few moments to connect the faces with names - but once he did, a smile spread across his face. "Hey, y'all," he said softly.

* * *

Ponyboy and Two-Bit rushed toward the bed as though some invisible force field had suddenly been lowered. Darry stayed by the door - a silent observer.

Pony sat in a chair while Two-Bit remained standing. "Gosh, kid, you sure gave us one hell of a scare," Two-Bit said, trying to keep his voice light, but surprised to find he was getting a little choked up.

"Sorry," Johnny croaked, his throat scratchy and raw from the ventilator they'd taken him off of when he woke up.

Two-Bit gave a wobbly grin, "Just don't let it happen again. Deal?"

Johnny was already beginning to feel better. He could handle anything with the gang around him. "Deal," he answered, returning Two-Bit's grin.

Johnny turned his attention to Ponyboy, who seemed awfully interested in the fraying edge of the faded hospital blanket. Ponyboy looked up, and Johnny was surprised to see his eyes were watery and red, like he was close to tears.

"Pony, you ain't gonna cry, are you?" he whispered. Pony laughed and wiped at his eyes.

"Naw, I ain't gonna cry."

Darry walked over to the foot of the bed, hoping to rescue his brother. "Johnny, did the nurses tell you Pony was here every day. I could of sworn I was gonna have to rent a room for him here."

"Yeah, he kept reading to you from these really thick, really boring books," Two-Bit added.

"They were not boring," Ponyboy retaliated, his unease forgotten.

"Right. I looked through some of 'em. There weren't even any pictures." Two-Bit nudged Johnny's shoulder. "Johnnycake, trust me - if you hadn't been in a coma, Pony's books would have put you in one."

"Two-Bit!" Pony was stunned he could be so insensitive, but then he realized Johnny was quietly laughing. For the first time in a long time, Johnny's dark eyes weren't haunted. Sure, he looked tired and maybe a little weak. It was going to be a long road to recovery - that much was obvious, but he no longer looked defeated. Maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

They stayed for a few more minutes, but Johnny was fading fast. He was struggling to stay awake, but it was a losing battle. A nurse came in to shoo them out, telling them Johnny needed his rest.

"Johnnycake, see ya tomorrow," Ponyboy said as they left, but Johnny had already fallen asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Note: I do not own The Outsiders.**

**Chapter 8**

Johnny wished he hadn't promised his nurse, Anna, that he'd finish the soup before eating the jello. The bowl of beef broth was one of the most unappetizing things he'd ever seen. She stopped in to see how he was progressing and frowned when she saw the bowl was untouched. "Everything okay?" she asked.

Johnny felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment. He didn't want to cause problems or be a bother. "Yeah, uh … well, can't I have a burger or something?" he asked softly.

Anna smiled. "No solid food for a few days, Johnny," she explained. "Trust me - your head may want a burger but your stomach isn't ready yet."

"Do you need help?" she asked, already knowing the answer. Boys, especially teenagers, never liked to ask for help. They were notoriously stubborn.

Shaking his head, Johnny looked down at his hands, folded in his lap. His arms were tightly bandaged, the burns still healing. They didn't hurt much, not like before, but he was having a hard time getting his muscles to obey his commands. The doctor said that was because of the coma, from not moving for so long.

"All right," she sighed, "if you're positive you don't need any help, I'll be on my way. Just press the button if you need me."

Anna was headed for the door when she suddenly stopped and turned around. "It is great, though, to hear you complain about the food. Now I know you're on the road to recovery." She left the room, gently closing the door behind her.

Johnny stared at the door, letting what she said sink in. Anna had been his nurse before he'd been in the coma. At that time, she'd been cold and business-like. She'd barely made eye contact with him, and when she did, all he'd see was pity. She seemed different now that she no longer looked at him as though she was waiting for him to die.

In fact, everyone was acting differently around him, especially his doctor. Today he was talking about recovery, physical therapy, and the future. Johnny couldn't believe he was actually going to have a future to think about. He had been so prepared to die that all of this felt like some bizarre dream.

They'd moved him to a new room earlier in the day, away from the chaos and noise of Intensive Care. It was nice not having a dozen or so doctors and nurses hanging around outside the door every time he woke up.

He looked at the soup and picked up the spoon, resigned to his burger-free fate. His movements were shaky and unsteady, but he managed to eat a spoonful without spilling it down the front of his hospital gown. It tasted as bland and awful as it looked - definitely not worth the effort, but he kept eating anyway.

He was almost finished when the door opened and Ponyboy stepped inside his room. He was carrying a bag of books, which was bulging at the seams - not an uncommon sight when it came to Ponyboy. Johnny rarely, if ever, brought his books home with him.

Pony took a few steps forward then stopped in his tracks, staring, open-mouthed, at Johnny.

"Wh-what?" Johnny stuttered self-consciously, his spoon frozen in mid-air. He was relieved when a smile spread across Ponyboy's face.

"You - look at you. You're sitting up." Ponyboy motioned to the bed, the top half raised, supporting Johnny's back.

Johnny shrugged, dropping the spoon into the bowl. "It's no big deal," he said quietly, running his fingers through his bangs - a nervous habit he'd had ever since he could remember.

"Of course it's a big deal," Pony said as he dropped his bag on the floor and flopped into the chair next to the bed.

Johnny gently rapped on his stomach, creating a knocking sound. "Back brace," he explained with a small grin.

Ponyboy wrinkled his brow, "well, that sounds comfortable."

"You have no idea. But, at least I don't have to stare at the ceiling anymore." Johnny pushed the almost empty bowl of soup to the side and pulled the bowl of red jello closer. He tried not to sigh when he ate the first bite, but he failed.

"Man, thank God they didn't find a way to screw up jello," he said more to himself than to Ponyboy.

Pony grinned, "I guess I should be thankful I didn't have to eat anything when I was in the hospital. I was so out of it …" his voice trailed off when he noticed the look on Johnny's face.

"When were you in the hospital?"

"Um, the night of the rumble. It's a long story and everything is fine now." Johnny didn't believe him, but he let it drop.

Ponyboy grabbed his bag and opened it, a few books toppling to the floor. "I, uh, stopped by library and picked out a couple of books," he explained as he rushed to pick up the scattered volumes. "I figured I could read them to you or you could, you know, read them yourself."

"Look, here's Oliver Twist - I haven't read this one yet, but it sounds good. Huckleberry Finn - we read it in class, I think you'll like it. Catcher in the Rye - Darry really liked this one." As Pony rattled off titles, he created a stack on the nightstand next to the paperback copy of Gone With the Wind.

He stopped and picked up the book, running his fingers over the cover, remembering the time spent reading it. "We could always finish reading this," he said.

Johnny thought for a moment and realized continuing with the book would be like being back in the church again. "I don't know, Pony … maybe not right now," Johnny explained, not really vocalizing his fears, but he knew Pony would understand.

Pony finished assembling his mini-library and returned to his seat. "So …" he started, unsure of what to say next.

"So … "Johnny repeated, "How's the gang?"

"Well, me and Darry are getting along a little better." Ponyboy shrugged as he said it, like he didn't quite believe it.

"You'll see Soda today, he and Steve are gonna pick me up after they get off work. Don't mention Sandy around Soda. They broke-up while we were in Windrixville, and he's still taking it pretty hard. Steve's the same - still fighting with his old man. And Two-Bit's been visiting you a lot with me. That's pretty much it."

Johnny was quiet, obviously thinking. "What about Dally?" he asked, wondering why Ponyboy left him off his list.

"Well," Pony started, fidgeting with the seam of his jeans, "Dally got in some trouble."

"And …" Johnny prompted.

"And … he's in jail."

"Jail? What for?"

"Well, the night of the rumble, he robbed a convenience store with a heater and he got shot by the cops." Johnny's face blanched and Pony quickly added, "He's okay now. But, with his record and everything, he got sent away for 6 months. And the judge told him he was getting off lightly cause he helped rescue those kids."

Johnny didn't say anything at first, letting the news sink in. "Well," he said slowly, "I guess it could have been worse."

Johnny looked at Ponyboy. His eyes were shuttered; as though he was remembering something he'd just as soon forget. Johnny realized Ponyboy must have been there when Dallas got shot.

"Yeah," Ponyboy said quietly, "it could have been much worse."


	9. Chapter 9

**Note: I do not own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 9**

He could see the flicker of flames through the thick black smoke. Cinders were raining down upon him, stinging his arms and face. Waves of suffocating heat slammed into him, threatening to bring him to his knees. He was stumbling … searching.

Johnny's screams pierced through the red haze. Guilt and despair washed over him - he was too late. Johnny was suffering and there wasn't anything he could do to stop it. Anyone but Johnny …

A loud, ominous cracking sound echoed above the roar of the fire. Panicked - eyes watering, chest tight, he continued his frantic search. Finally, he saw a shape in the flames. It was Johnny - lying on the floor, not moving. Broken and burned, he looked like an abandoned rag doll.

Finally, an end in sight, he surged forward to rescue his friend. The creaking grew louder and large pieces of timber began to fall. The roof was caving in, threatening to trap them. Reaching out, fingers almost touching Johnny's jean jacket - a wall of flames suddenly engulfed them and --

Dallas woke with a jolt. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure it would burst through his chest. Disoriented, it took him a few seconds to realize where he was.

Gray walls, gray floors, gray clothes. Jail. Nothing new for Dallas Winston, but this time seemed different somehow. Everything felt closer, smaller. The underside of the bunk above him seemed to be bearing down upon him. Collapsing on him like the roof of the church did.

Bracing both hands on the mattress, he sat on the edge of the bed - trying to steady his breathing and regain his composure. It was the dream again - the fucking dream he'd been having ever since Johnny's first letter had arrived a week ago.

He'd read the letter - at first he didn't want to. He tried to tell himself that he didn't care, but that was a lie. Johnny's handwriting was familiar; he'd always written carefully, slowly as though each word was important.

As he read the letter, Dally felt like a weight was being lifted from his chest. Johnny was getting better. Maybe everything really was going to be okay. That night, however, was when he had the first nightmare. Seven days later, he still couldn't shake it.

Hands shaking, he grabbed a cigarette and lit a match. Raising the match to the end of the cancer stick, he stopped midway, mesmerized by the flame. Eerie screams started to echo down the hallway - Johnny's screams. Dally closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _It's not real, _he told himself as he released the air from his lungs. The flame continued down the match, burning Dally's fingers, breaking him out of his trance.

"Fuck," he hissed, tearing the cigarette from his lips and crushing it in his fist.

"Winston?" a gruff voice sounded above him and Dallas groaned. His cellmate, Tony, was awake. _Great, _Dallas thought, _just fucking great._

"Nightmare again?" Tony asked.

_Ain't you a fuckin' genius, _Dallas wanted to say, but didn't. "Go back to sleep. It's still early," Dally said as he stretched out on the hard mattress.

"Ya know - you could talk to the prison shrink about it. He helped me out." Dally rolled his eyes, this guy was too much. _Just my luck to end up in a cell with a loser who got caught stealin' hubcaps._ _Amateur, _he thought. _Hell, even Two-Bit's kid sister could lift a hubcap without gettin' caught. Now he'll want to have a heart-to-heart about how his momma never loved him. Pathetic._

"I ain't talking to no shrink. Shut your mouth and go back to sleep," he growled.

Tony seemed to have a death wish and wouldn't let the subject drop. "Just so you know," he said, "I'm getting tired of waking up in the middle of the night to your screams."

"I don't scream." _Shit, did I scream?_

"Whatever you say, man. Must have been my imagination."

Dally stared up at the underside of the bunk bed. A faint light picked up the delicate web a spider was building in the corner. A fly was caught, but the spider was biding its time, watching it suffer.

Dally rolled over and closed his eyes, wondering at what point in his life he'd gone from being the spider to being the fly.

* * *

Dally stood silently in the entrance of the psychologist's office. He couldn't believe he was here, that he'd come voluntarily. 

The room was non-descript. Everything seemed to be brown and bland. _Must of run out of gray,_ Dally grinned.

The guy behind the desk fit the room perfectly. Brown hair, slightly receding. Brown shirt, rolled up to his elbows. Brown tie, loosened at his neck. Brown eyes, full of just the right amount of manufactured warmth and concern.

He stood when Dallas walked in. "You must be Dallas Winston," he said as he extended his hand. Dally kept his hands in his pockets and glowered.

He wanted knock the guy off balance, but it didn't work. The shrink simply smiled and took his seat. Dally noticed the nameplate on his desk. _Dr. Robert Brown._ It was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud.

"Have a seat, please."

Dally didn't react and continued to stand.

"Fine," the doctor said. "You can stand. If that makes you feel better."

"Is that how this is going to be?" Dally asked as he yanked the chair back and sat down. "Are you gonna sit there and analyze everything I say or do?"

"Well," Dr. Brown said with a smile, "it is my job."

"Shitty job, if you ask me," Dally said as he rocked the chair onto its back legs.

Dr. Brown looked down at the open file on his desk. "Yes, I suppose robbing convenience stores is a much more worthwhile pursuit."

Dally shrugged. "At least I don't gotta wear a tie."

The doctor ignored his comment and continued reading the papers in front of him. "About that convenience store robbery - I was wondering - did you know the gun wasn't loaded?"

Dally's face grew stony. "Yeah, so?" he answered curtly. "Clerk didn't know."

"And neither did the cops." Dr. Brown picked up the police report. "It says here they told you repeatedly to drop it, but you refused. They had no choice but to shoot you."

"Is there a point to this?"

"Why not just surrender? Jail isn't anything new for you."

'_Cause I wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, _Dally thought. _Go out on my terms, my way. _

Dally didn't answer, though, but he had a feeling the doc knew.

"You were lucky, you know. You were given a second chance."

Dally gave a sharp laugh.

"Whatever you say, doc." Dally motioned with his arms, taking in the room and the jail as a whole. "That's what this place is, land of the second chances. Maybe, if I try real hard I can be a doctor, just like you, or a lawyer, or the fucking President of the United States of America."

"Why do you think the only future you have is to be a thug? You can do anything you set your mind to." Dr. Brown leaned back in his chair and gave a small chuckle. "Well, except maybe become President."

"You're jokin' right? Where I'm from you don't become a doctor or a lawyer. You're lucky if you graduate high school. Greasers never think about the future. It's useless."

"Is that what you would tell Ponyboy and Johnny?" The question startled Dally and he let the chair drop forward.

"They're the boys from the fire, right?" the doctor continued. "You helped them save a bunch of little kids? Not exactly the act of a thug."

"Naw, you got it wrong, doc. I was tryin' to fix the mess they got themselves into. I don't give a damn about some stupid little kids."

The doctor just looked at him, studied him. For the first time in his life, Dallas felt like squirming in his seat.

"Is that what your nightmares are about? The fire? Your cellmate said you'd been waking up screaming at night."

Dally shifted in the chair. "Tony's full of shit."

Dr. Brown grinned. "Maybe about some things. But I think he's right about this. Tell me about your dream."

"What, no couch to lie down on?" The doctor picked up his notepad and a pen and looked at Dally, silently telling him to begin. "Fine, the dream … yeah, it's the fire."

"What about the fire?"

"I'm trying to find Johnny, but the smoke's too thick. He's screaming." Remembering, Dally took a deep breath. "I find him, but the roof collapses and I'm too late."

"But you weren't too late, you saved him."

"No, doc, I _was_ too late. You talk about futures. Well, talk to Johnny, then. He's stuck in a wheelchair, in a shitty town, with shitty parents. That's my fault," Dally said angrily, pointing at his own chest. "_I_ was too late."

Dally pushed himself out of the chair. "This is a fuckin' joke. I'm outta here." He started to walk toward the door.

"Dallas," the doctor said before he could leave, "when you get back to your cell, take a good look around." Dally stopped, his hand on the doorknob.

"Right now, you've got four months left. Next time, it might be two years. The time after that, maybe more like a dozen. Take a good long look, because I guarantee you, with the path you've chosen - at some point - you'll never leave that cell."

Dally didn't say anything. He left the office, slamming the door behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Note: I do not own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 10**

Two-Bit entered the Curtis' house with a loud "Howdy", punctuated by the slamming of the screen door. Darry entered the living room, buttoning his shirt. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Two-Bit standing there, looking more awake at eight in the morning on a Saturday than Darry had ever seen him look.

"Howdy," Two-Bit repeated cheerfully.

"Mornin'," Darry responded gruffly. It was early and he didn't like to deal with Two-Bit's special brand of reality before he'd had his first cup of coffee.

A shadow appeared at the front door, followed by the sound of someone impatiently clearing their throat. Darry squinted, trying to see through the dingy screen.

"Two-Bit," Darry said, slightly confused, "is that your sister on our porch?"

Two-Bit looked behind him and let out a laugh. "Oh, hey sis. Forgot you were there," he said as he let her in.

Darry nodded a greeting to the scrawny kid who stepped into the house, but she ignored him. Her long, rust colored hair was pulled into a haphazard ponytail which swung back and forth with each step she took. The faded Mickey Mouse t-shirt she had on mirrored the one worn by her big brother.

"Mom got called into work this morning, so I got stuck babysittin' the runt here," Two-Bit explained. He playfully punched his sister on the shoulder and she responded with a sharp elbow to his stomach. Doubled over, Two-Bit gasped, "It's gonna be a long day."

Darry shook his head in amusement. Between the two of them, he wasn't sure which Mathews was going to be doing the babysitting today. A part of him was disappointed that he had to go to work and was going to miss finding out.

Heading toward the kitchen, Darry hollered, "Ponyboy, get your butt out of bed. Two-Bit's here."

Passing Darry in the hall, Soda ambled into the living room, dressed for work and carrying his shoes. "Mornin'," he greeted Two-Bit before noticing the new addition to their group.

"Hey - Little-Bit, I ain't seen you in forever," he said cheerfully. Two-Bit grabbed his arm and pulled him aside.

"Careful, man. You're takin' your life into your own hands. Trust me." Two-Bit was muttering so quietly that Sodapop had to strain to hear him.

"Aw, don't worry. Kids love me - girls 'specially." Soda gave him a wink, but jumped when someone suddenly poked him in the back.

Soda turned, a big smile plastered across his face. Two-Bit's sister was standing there, all four feet of her, hands on her hips and her toe tapping impatiently.

"Don't say I didn't warn ya, man," Two-Bit whispered ominously in Soda's ear.

"My name is Sabrina," his sister announced.

Soda laughed. "I know, just like the Teenage Wi --"

"Not Little-Bit!"

"In the Archie Comics…" Soda trailed off, his smile fading.

"I'm not a little kid. I've been ten for three whole weeks!" She actually stamped her foot on that one. Her face was turning an interesting shade of red and Soda felt a twinge of fear.

He took a step back, sweat breaking out on his forehead. "Golly, that's great. Happy Birthd --"

"So don't call me little kid names!"

"Of course not. Wouldn't, uh, dream of it," Soda stammered as he backed up into the hallway. "Pony," he yelled, "Two-Bit's here!"

Ponyboy came out of the bathroom, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Soda rushed over to him. "Thank God you weren't born a girl," he whispered.

"What in the world does that mean?" Ponyboy asked at the same moment the shrill scream of a ten year old split through the morning.

"I heard that!" Sabrina Mathews announced at the top of her lungs.

Ponyboy shuddered. "Oh," he said. "Never mind."

"Hey," Soda said before Pony could leave the hallway, "me and Steve don't work 'til later so we'll be able to go with you guys to the hospital. We won't be able to stay long, though."

"That's fine. Ya know, Johnny really misses you guys."

"Yeah, I miss him, too." Soda got quiet and for a moment he seemed to be a million miles away.

Pony wondered if he was only thinking about Johnny, if maybe his mind was on another person he missed. Soda did that a lot lately - got real quiet and still. Sometimes it scared Ponyboy, it was so unlike his brother to be serious and lost in his thoughts. Soda never talked about it, but Pony knew he was still upset about the whole Sandy thing. Unsure of what to say - would he make it worse, would Soda even want to talk about it - Ponyboy said nothing and felt completely useless.

A smile spread across Soda's face and just like that the moment passed. The old Soda was back and Pony wondered if he'd imagined the whole thing.

"Figured we could follow you guys in Steve's car. That way, when Two-Bit's car breaks down, we'll be able to give you guys a lift."

"I heard that!" Two-Bit hollered from the other room.

* * *

Ponyboy stepped into the living room, careful not to make eye contact with the ticking time bomb that was Two-Bit's sister. He made it successfully to the couch and flopped down on the worn cushions.

Saturday morning cartoons were on and both Sabrina and Two-Bit were staring at the television, glassy eyed and temporarily distracted. Pony almost laughed out loud at the picture they made. _Like brother, like sister, _he thought. They even sat the same - legs crossed, leaning back, arms braced on the floor, head cocked to the right like they were pondering the meaning of the universe, not simply trying to figure out how the coyote could catch the roadrunner this time.

"Ponyboy," Darry's voice broke through his thoughts and he looked up at his older brother. Darry was pulling on his jacket, getting ready to leave for work. "I want you home early today," he continued.

"But --" Ponyboy started to argue.

"No buts about it. You have a ton of homework to do and as far as I can tell, you didn't touch any of it yesterday. Your grades are terrible, Ponyboy, and that's not like you."

"They're not that bad," Ponyboy mumbled. He looked at Two-Bit, embarrassed to have this conversation in front of his friend, but he wasn't paying attention.

"Yes, they are," Darry said bluntly. "Have you even started that paper your English teacher assigned you?"

Pony sighed and leaned his head back, wishing he could sink deeper into the cushions and disappear.

"I've tried." He could actually feel Darry's anger rise without even looking at him. It wasn't like he was lying. He'd stared at the blank page, pencil ready to go, but the words wouldn't come.

"Ponyboy, this isn't a joke."

"I didn't say it was. There's just a lot going on right now."

Darry sat down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know you want to keep Johnny company, but you have to look after yourself, too. Home by two - have we got a deal?"

"Fine," Pony relented, "home by two."

Just then, Steve walked through the door, letting it slam behind him. Surprised to see Two-Bit's sister, he said, "Hey there, Little-Bit …"

_O_

_O_

_O_

_O_

_A/N - Sorry it took so long to update. The last couple of weeks have been busy and stressful. _

_Anyway, I based Sabrina on my best friend's daughter who happens to be named Sabrina (what a coincidence, lol). She's ten and … well … we'll call her "spirited". I checked, and Sabrina the Teenage Witch appeared in the Archie Comics in 1962._

_Thanks again for all the great reviews. I will try to have the next chapter up soon._


	11. Chapter 11

**Note: I do not own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 11**

Heads turned as the gang made their way down the hospital corridors. Ponyboy wasn't surprised, he supposed they made a conspicuous group.

Two-Bit and Sabrina were behind him, giggling uncontrollably and pushing each other as they walked. The kid was surprisingly strong and almost succeeded in sending her brother careening through an open door.

Soda and Steve were bringing up the rear. The nurses seemed drawn to Soda - suddenly appearing in doorways or stopping what they were doing to stare - but he was oblivious. Soda smiled at everyone to be polite, but he wasn't aware of the effect he was having - Pony swore he actually heard one woman sigh. Normally, Soda would be reveling in the attention, flirting and having a great time.

_Sandy, _Ponyboy thought. _Man, I hope I never get so caught up in a girl that I can't get over it when we break-up. _His thoughts jumped to Cherry, but he immediately pushed them aside, embarrassed he'd even allowed his mind to go there. Soda was in love with Sandy. He and Cherry had one good conversation, that's it. _Let's get a little perspective here,_ he thought to himself.

Steve was looking a little pale and kind of green. Pony figured he still hadn't recovered from his encounter with Sabrina. That made him smile, he would never forget the look on Steve's face when she started to chastise him. Ponyboy had never seen Steve Randle rendered speechless before and he wished he'd had a movie camera to capture the moment and share it with Johnny.

Steve disappeared for a moment, ducking into an open room. When he emerged, he was carrying a small vase full of carnations. Ponyboy rolled his eyes, adding _stealing from sick people _to the list of things that bugged him about Steve.

Ponyboy was the first around the corner and stopped when he saw a man and a woman emerge from Johnny's room. In the past couple of weeks, Pony had become familiar with nearly everyone on this floor, but he didn't recognize these two. They were both wearing suits. The man was carrying a brief case and the woman had what looked like a bunch of files clasped in her arms. Apprehension steeled over Ponyboy as he watched them make their way down the hall in the opposite direction.

* * *

Johnny was staring out the window but not really seeing anything. He was trying to process what his two visitors had told him, trying to let it sink in. He was beginning to wonder if his life was ever going to be normal again, if this mess was ever going to end.

Suddenly, the face of his father filled his vision - sweaty, flushed red with rage, distorted with hate. Johnny stomach lurched from the reek of cheap whisky that rolled off his father's breath in sickening waves. His fist was raised, poised to strike, poised to hurt. Instinctively, Johnny flinched, stealing himself for the familiar blows that were to come. Then, just as quickly as he appeared, his father vanished, replaced with the clear, sunny sky outside the window.

Johnny closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. His heart was pounding and his hands were shaking. _Shit, _he thought, _my life has never been normal. Ain't like it could get much worse._

A noise from the hallway interrupted his thoughts and Johnny was relieved to have the distraction. He heard a familiar laugh and smiled shakily. It was hard to mistake the manic laugh of Two-Bit Mathews for anyone else.

Ponyboy was the first to enter the room. He had a bag with him. _Hopefully more books, _Johnny thought. He'd been plowing through the ones Pony had brought him a couple of weeks ago and was afraid he'd run out soon. The stuff the candy stripers brought around on the library cart didn't look half as interesting as the books Pony picked out.

Pony was giving him an odd look, like he was studying him. Johnny figured he could probably tell he was a little shaken-up and kind of distracted. Ponyboy was always good at picking up on things like that. But right now, Johnny just wanted to think about something else for a while, pretend nothing was wrong.

"Johnny …" Ponyboy began, but he was interrupted by Two-Bit and his sister who came bounding into the room.

"Hey, kid, long time no see," Two-Bit said and Johnny grinned. Two-Bit had been by just yesterday with Ponyboy, but Johnny always missed them the minute their visits were over.

Soda and Steve were next through the door. Johnny was a little overwhelmed at first. He was used to just one or two visitors at a time, not five, and he hadn't seen Soda or Steve since that first day they'd come by to pick up Ponyboy.

"Hiya, Johnnycake. How are ya doin'?" Soda asked.

He gave a small shrug. "Okay, I guess."

"Okay?" Ponyboy interrupted. "Johnny, you're doin' more than okay. He's starting physical therapy Monday, that's a whole week sooner than the doc had originally thought."

"It's no big deal. Just liftin' some weights and learnin' how to use a wheelchair," Johnny said quietly. He looked over at the chair sitting in the corner. Part of him was excited about the fact he was finally going to get out of bed and learn how to move around on his own. Another part of him dreaded that chair and the fact he was going to need it for the rest of his life.

Soda's voice broke into his thoughts. "Shoot, kid, that's great news. You'll be outta here before you know it."

Steve stepped forward and Johnny noticed he was holding flowers. "Here ya go, Johnny. I got you some flowers." Johnny noticed the bewildered expressions on the faces of the other guys, Two-Bit's especially.

Two-Bit reached over and pulled the card from the vase before Steve could move away from him. "Johnny, you didn't tell us you're Steve's Aunt Sally. I woulda pegged you more for a Susie than a Sally."

Everyone laughed as Steve tried to grab the card from Two-Bit's grasp.

"You actually stole flowers from poor Aunt Sally," Two-Bit shook his head in mock disappointment as he dodged him. "Ya know," he looked down at the card again, reading the name of the sender, "_Tammy_, I woulda expected more from you."

"Drop it, Two-Bit. Her room was full of flowers. She ain't gonna miss one vase," Steve said as he sat the flowers on the end table next to the bed.

"Thanks, man," Johnny said. He made a mental note to ask his nurse to find out who Sally was and have the flowers returned to her later.

"Your welcome," Steve replied, crossing his arms and glaring at Two-Bit.

Two-Bit's little sister, Sabrina, stepped up to the foot of his bed. She had a piece of folded, yellow construction paper in her hands.

"Hi, Little-Bit," Johnny said with a smile. Everyone took a step back. Soda actually tripped over his own feet. Johnny wasn't sure what was going on and Ponyboy was shaking his head frantically, motioning for him to stop.

"Hi, Johnny," Sabrina said sweetly and everyone visibly relaxed. "I made you a card when my brother said I could come see you today."

She handed Johnny the card which had _Get Well Soon_ scrawled across the front of it in big, blue letters. "Wow, thanks," he said, surprised to feel a tightening in his chest. "I don't think anyone's ever made a card for me before." As soon as he said it, he realized it was true.

Sabrina blushed and looked at the floor, suddenly shy. Two-Bit covered his mouth, obviously trying not to laugh at his little sister's obvious crush, but everyone else was quiet.

Johnny's thoughts turned to the countless birthdays he spent hoping for a gift, a card, a hug - anything - from his parents. At some point in his life, he can't even pinpoint when, they just … stopped. They stopped being his parents and became something else entirely. He couldn't even think of a word for it.

After a minute or two, the silence became awkward and Soda cleared his throat.

"Well, Johnny, I'm afraid me and Steve have to get to work."

"That's okay. Thanks for stoppin' by. It was great to see you guys," Johnny said as he gave a small smile.

"It's really good seein' that your getting better," Soda said as he headed for the door. "We sure didn't know what we woulda done without you."

"Thanks, man," Johnny said, feeling a little embarrassed at the statement.

Steve was following Soda out the door. "Yeah, take it easy, kid. See you when you get home."

"Home…right." Johnny repeated quietly, more to himself than to his friends. He realized Steve was still standing there in the doorway, waiting for him to say good-bye. "See ya, Steve. Thanks again for the flowers," he added, knowing it would make Two-Bit laugh.

After they left, Pony pulled Two-Bit over to the window. They were talking quietly and Johnny couldn't hear what they were saying. Sabrina kept glancing at him from the foot of the bed and it was becoming unnerving.

A minute later, Two-Bit came over and put his hand on his sister's shoulder. "Me and the runt are gonna run and get something to eat, maybe catch a matinee. Don't worry, though, we'll be back for Pony before you get too sick of him."

"_Thanks_, Two-Bit," Ponyboy muttered behind him.

"But," Sabrina interrupted, "what if I don't want to go?"

"I'm the boss, remember?" She rolled her eyes. "Hey, maybe I'll even let you talk me into going to see _Mary Poppins. _I think the bargain theater still has it_." _Two-Bit said as he slowly, discreetly pushed his sister toward the door.

"Or how about _The_ _Sound of Music_?" she countered. "I've been dying to see that one." They were still negotiating as they made their way down the hallway.

Ponyboy turned to Johnny, a look of concern on his face. "So, Johnny, who were those people leaving your room when we got here? What did they want?"

Johnny looked down and began to fidget with the curling edge of the card he was still holding. He shrugged. "Nothin', man."

Pony sat down in the chair next to the bed. "Come on, Johnny. I know something is wrong."

Johnny's shoulders sagged, pulling on the still-healing burns across his neck and back, but he ignored the discomfort. "Just some lawyer and a social worker."

"And …?"

"Well, the lawyer guy was appointed by the court. Ya know there's gonna be a trial, right?" Johnny hated saying it out loud. He didn't want to think about it - about maybe ending up in jail.

He'd played that night over in his head countless times and he couldn't think of anything else that he could have done differently. If he'd done nothing, Ponyboy would probably be dead. He killed someone and he would have to live with that for the rest of his life, but he also saved someone and he would hold onto that through whatever else happened to him.

Pony didn't answer, but Johnny could see he was afraid of what would happen, too.

"Maybe I'll get lucky and they'll put me in a cell next to Dal," Johnny tried to joke, but he realized it wasn't very funny.

"And the social worker?" Pony prompted.

Johnny sighed, running his hand through his ungreased hair. "Well, she's also appointed by the court 'cause my parents …" he faltered," my parents have filed with the court to give up parental rights. So I'm an orphan. Tuff, huh?" Johnny's voice caught slightly and he winced in embarrassment. He refused to cry. He would not cry over them.

He looked over at Ponyboy, who looked like he was about to do the crying for both of them.

Pony sucked in a shuddering breath. "Darry," he said suddenly, perching himself on the edge of the chair, as though he was about to lunge out of it. "We'll tell Darry. He'll know what to do."


	12. Chapter 12

**Note: I do not own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 12**

"Ponyboy, I have no idea what to do," Darry said as he passed the mashed potatoes to Soda. As soon as they sat down to dinner, Pony told his brothers about the situation with Johnny and his parents. Pony was looking at Darry with an open, trusting expression and Darry didn't know how to break it to him that he didn't always have all the answers.

How he wished he could honestly tell him that everything was going to be okay, that he would be able to fix it. _Nothing bad is ever going to happen to you again as long as I'm here to protect you, _he yearned to say. He couldn't do it, he couldn't lie to Pony any more than he could lie to himself.

"We have to do something," Ponyboy responded. "We can't just sit back and watch them put Johnny in a boys' home."

"I'm not sayin' we won't be there for him, but it's not like they'll send him here to live with us," Darry answered, trying to keep his voice even and calm, trying to prevent the conversation from turning into an argument.

Ponyboy didn't say anything, just looked down at his plate and pushed his peas around aimlessly with his fork.

Darry sighed, "Kiddo, you don't honestly believe the state would let Johnny come live here?"

"Well …"

"Pony, even I have to admit that sounds a bit far-fetched," Soda interrupted.

"Gee, you're a big help," Ponyboy said, a note of sarcasm in his voice.

"Ponyboy, Soda's right. I already have to jump through hoops to keep you two out of foster care. It's not like they'll up and give me a third kid to take care of."

Darry reached out and placed a hand on his youngest brother's arm in an attempt to offer comfort and to still his fidgeting. "I'm not saying this to be mean, ya know."

"I know, it's just …"

"How come us greasers always get the tough breaks?" Soda asked, his tone light, but there was a hint of bitterness that wasn't lost on either brother.

Darry looked around their small house- shabby, but warm - kind of like their lives, at least when their parents were alive. Now the plaster on the walls was chipping away in a few spots, revealing the weaknesses beneath the surface. _Is that what's happening to my family and friends? Are they crumbling before my eyes?_

His thoughts turned to his parents. _What would they do? _

He remembered his mother - she doted on Johnny, trying to provide a bit of light in his dark world. The first time she had seen the bruises, he had expected her to ignore them or explain them away. The gang knew about the beatings, had probably known from the first day they'd met Johnny. Kids had a way with picking up on these things. Adults, however, were good at not noticing. They liked to blame scrapes and bruises on roughhousing and "boys being boys". Not his mom, she knew right away - and she was pissed.

His parents had disappeared for about an hour that day. Darry didn't know where they went, but he liked to imagine them knocking on the Cade's door - his mom giving Johnny's mother a piece of her mind and his dad flattening his worthless bastard of a father with a single punch. _When you're ten, _he smiled to himself, _you like to think your parents are invincible superheroes._

After that day, Johnny was at their house as much as possible. The bruises would fade, but were always soon replaced with new ones. His dark, trusting eyes slowly became wary and shadowed. Darry knew it ate away at his mother, that she felt helpless.

_She would of fought for him, _Darry thought. _Even if she knew it would be in vain, she would of tried._

Darry took a deep breath and tightened his grip on his brother's arm. "Alright, I will talk to the social worker tomorrow."

A smile spread across Pony's face and Soda's mouth dropped open in amazement. "I'm not making any promises," Darry quickly added. "I'm just going to ask some questions and let them know we're concerned."

Darry couldn't continue what he was going to say because he was suddenly enveloped in a hug from his youngest brother. "Thanks, Darry," Ponyboy said, his voice muffled by Darry's shirt.

Darry raised his arms, returning the hug, surprised to feel his eyes fill with tears. "You're welcome, little buddy," he said softly.

* * *

"Hello, Mr. Curtis. Please, have a seat." Darry was surprised to see that the woman who greeted him wasn't much older than he was. 

The name on her desk was Sarah Martin and it fit her appearance - simple and plain. Her dark blonde hair was pulled back into a neat bun and she wore glasses that framed a pair of warm brown eyes. She looked friendly and kind, like someone you would trust with teaching kindergarten, not someone who you'd expect to put up a fight for a crippled greaser who'd killed another boy.

Darry was convinced this was a lost cause before he'd even pulled out the chair and sat down. Sarah looked down at a large, open file on her desk. "I see you're here to discuss the situation with Jonathan Cade."

Darry cleared his throat and nervously smoothed his tie. "Yes, my brothers and I want to find out what the state is planning to do with him once he's released from the hospital."

"You realize that it is a bit unorthodox for me to discuss the case of a minor with someone who isn't a member of his family?"

Darry narrowed his eyes. "Well," he started, measuring his words carefully, "isn't that the point? His family gave up their rights. _We _are his family."

"I respect that you believe that, but the state doesn't see it that way." She took her glasses off, almost as if to punctuate the sentence. Darry wondered if she practiced the move, planning the best moment for it in all of her conversations.

"Where was the state all those years his parents were beating on him?" Darry motioned to the papers in front of her. "That's a pretty thick file you've got there. Are you telling me that no teachers ever came forward, no neighbors ever called in a complaint?"

"I won't lie, there are reports from over the years. All made by the same person." Sarah looked at Darry pointedly. "Your mother."

Darry felt his chest swell with pride. _Go, Mom, _he thought. Pride was quickly replaced with anger. _This could have all been solved years ago_.

"Obviously, nothing was done about it. Why should I believe you are going to act in his best interest now?" He looked around her tiny office and spotted a diploma on the wall. It was dated for the year before and he let out a cynical laugh.

"Geez," he said harshly, "is this your first case? What, do they dump all the poor, unfortunate kids on the new case workers? Get your feet wet, get in some practice for when it's time to help someone who matters?"

Her professional veneer was beginning to slip. "That's not fair."

"But it's true," he countered.

"Just because this is my first case, doesn't mean I'm not going to do my damnedest to do what is right for that boy."

"Prove it." Darry was surprised to find himself enjoying this. Her face was becoming red with anger. She was flustered and he was becoming more determined.

"How?" she asked, her eyes flashing.

"Don't dump him the minute you have another case to work on, another cause. Don't let him get lost in the system that hasn't done a damn thing for him so far."

"Mr. Curtis," she said coolly, "I think I might surprise you."

Darry crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "For Johnny's sake, I hope you're right."


	13. Chapter 13

**Note: I do not own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 13**

A shadow fell over the bench Dally was trying to take a nap on. "Beat it, pal. Seat's taken," he said without opening his eyes.

Dally wrapped his arms tighter around himself, trying to burrow deeper into the thin fleece lining of his prison-issued jacket. Despite the bright sunlight, the air was crisp and his coat was doing a piss-poor job of keeping him warm.

It was the scheduled "recreation" time for the day. For most of the guys that meant stretching their legs, getting some exercise, and socializing with their fellow inmates. For Dallas Winston, who was never much for socializing and wouldn't be caught dead exercising, it meant smoking a couple of cigarettes and catching up on some sleep.

The shadow didn't move and Dally felt himself grow more irritated. "Are you deaf or just incredibly stupid? Fuckin' seat is taken," he growled.

"Shit, Winston, is that any way to greet an old friend?" Dally didn't have to open his eyes to know who that familiar drawl belonged to. A sly smile spread across his face as he sat up, squinting into the sunlight.

"Shepard," was his only word in greeting.

The other man grinned, the long scar that ran from his temple to his chin giving the action more than a hint of menace. "Miss me?"

Dally barked out a laugh. Tim Shepard wasn't exactly what he'd call a friend and he sure as hell hadn't missed him. But even Dally would admit it was nice to see a familiar face, even if it did belong to someone he'd just as soon beat the crap out of than sit and have a smoke with.

Tim sat down next to him and checked his shirt pocket and Dally tried not to roll his eyes. He could tell the pocket was empty and he knew what was coming next.

"Hey, Dal, can I bum a smoke?" Dally had the cigarette out before Tim finished the question.

"Thanks. I'm good for it," Tim said around the cigarette as he lit it with the matches Dally gave him.

"Right," Dally said, holding out his hand for the pack of matches Tim was about to slip into his shirt pocket. Tim handed them over without comment.

Exhaling a cloud of smoke he asked, "So what's the deal here?"

"No deal," Dally answered. "Just doin' my time. Stayin' outta trouble."

"Hell, Winston, ya ain't getting soft in your old age, are you?"

Dally didn't answer. Slouching back in his seat, he narrowed eyes, silently daring Tim to continue. Tim held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Hey, man, nothin' personal. I was just thinkin' that maybe those guys you hang out with have fucked with your world view, ya know?" Tim laughed. "Curtis, man, he means well, but he really doesn't have a clue. Tried to get me a job, put me on the straight-and-narrow."

Dally nodded, he could relate. He remembered Darry sitting him down on more than one occasion, trying to convince him to get a job. _Time to grow up, Dally, _he'd said. Dally couldn't believe he'd had the guts to say something like that to his face - nobody else would have. But Tim was right, Darry meant well.

"Well, you can see how that turned out," Tim continued, motioning to their surroundings. "Ain't my fault his boss had all these expensive tools lyin' around just waitin' for someone to come along and take 'em. Ya know me, never one to pass up an opportunity. Man," he said, his voice almost wistful, "if that had panned out, I woulda made a nice haul."

Suddenly, Dally grabbed Tim by the neck of his shirt. "Jesus, Shepard - if you fuckin' cost Darry his job, I'll -"

Tim threw up his hands, "Relax, Winston. I didn't cost Darry nothin'. I told the cops he didn't have anything to do with it, and they believed me."

Dally released his hold and Tim smiled. "But you just proved my point." He looked smug and Dally really hated people who were smug.

"Since when does Dallas Winston care if Darrel Curtis loses his job?" Tim continued.

"That doesn't prove jack," Dally snarled. "Darry's a good guy, just tryin' to raise his brothers. Only a real asshole would try to fuck with that." Dally lit a cigarette, trying to contain his urge to punch Shepard in the face.

Tim waived his hand in front of him, indicating he was ready to move onto another topic of conversation. "Anyway, what I wanted to tell you was what's been goin' down since you've been locked-up."

Dally kept his face remote and blank, but he had to admit that his interest was piqued.

_Now this is what I've been missin', _he thought, his blood humming. _Give me crime and mayhem any day over this feelings and rainbows bullshit I've been trapped in since I got here._

"Seems there's been some big time action movin' into town. Makes the petty crap we've been mixed up in look like kid's stuff," Tim explained, taking a long drag on his cigarette.

Dally took the bait. "Oh yeah, like what?" he asked.

Tim finished off the cigarette, flicking the butt into the dead grass. "Just bigger. More organized. Lots more cash."

"Drugs?" Dally asked, the word sour in his mouth. Knocking over a liquor store or stealing a car was one thing; drugs, however, didn't sit well with him. He'd seen too much of what drugs can do while he was in New York. It felt like a coward's way of making money.

Tim shrugged. "Yeah, there's drugs, but there's also other stuff." He looked at Dally, a coldness in his eyes that Dally had never seen before. He looked hungry, almost rabid. "It's our chance, man. I've got a connection who says we could really go far, make a name for ourselves. Tulsa's full of untapped potential and I just wanted to see if you were interested takin' advantage of it."

Dally leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. He thought about his cell and what Dr. Brown had said to him about never leaving it. What Tim was offering would almost guarantee the Doc's prediction would come true. He couldn't believe that it was actually bothering him, that he wasn't jumping at the opportunity.

_Dead or in jail, isn't that what everyone says about my future? Isn't like I'm gonna end up respectable and successful, so what difference does it make?_

"I don't know, man," he said, wincing at the hesitancy in his voice. "Give me some time to think about it."

Tim stood up, driving his hands into the pockets of his coat. "Whatever, man. Figured you'd want to stay at the kiddie table."

"Fuck you, Shepard," Dally said, a bit of humor laced with the insult.

Tim shrugged and began to pat his shirt pocket again. He looked at Dally, "Hey -" he started, but Dally was already holding out a cigarette and his matches.

"Thanks, man," Tim said through the smoke. "Let me know if you change your mind." He walked off, heading for the door where a guard stood, silently watching the yard.

Dally stood up, ready to follow him inside. He stopped in mid-stride and muttered another "Fuck" as he realized Shepard left with his matches.

O

O

O

O

_A/N Not a very long chapter, I know. But I think the next one might be about Dally, too, if that helps ;-) _

_It might be a week or two before I have another chance to update. I manage a bookstore and we're in the thick of the "fun" holiday season, so I'm not sure how much of my free time will actually be spent awake and coherent._

_Thanks again for all the great reviews. _


	14. Chapter 14

**Note: I do not own The Outsiders. **

**Chapter 14**

The cracked, yellowed blinds diffused the sunlight, enveloping the small space in a soft, golden glow. The effect on the rumpled room was magical, casting it into a otherworldly place where daydreams and promise lurked in the darkened corners.

Ponyboy, however, didn't notice. His attention was focused solely on the blank sheet of lined paper in front of him. Well, not completely blank. There were several crossed-out sentences littering the top of the page. He had to resist the wasteful urge to tear out a sheet after each failed attempt and start fresh with a clean slate - Darry definitely wouldn't have appreciated that. He'd probably calculate how much each piece of paper cost and then give a lecture about throwing away money.

Pony tried a new approach. "I was five when my parents took me for my first trip to the zoo. I don't really remember much about it." _So why are you writing about it, stupid? Should make for a riveting paper, _Pony thought as he slashed his pencil through the words.

"My brother Sodapop had a pet horse named Mickey Mouse. He loved that horse more than anything." Ponyboy stopped for a moment and studied the words. _Not a bad beginning - but how on earth am I gonna get more than one, even two pages out of Soda and Mickey? Pretty sure Mr. Syme wants more than two pages._

His pencil was tapping out the beat of some unknown tune on the scarred desk, a metronome counting the beats of his scattered, unfocused thoughts. _At this rate, _he thought, _I'll have it written by the time I graduate. Of course, if I don't write it, I might be graduating around the same time as Two-Bit._

Frustrated, he began looking around his room for inspiration. A couple of Elvis posters decorated one wall and he had tacked up some cool pictures of Paul Newman and Steve McQueen a few months ago. Soda had made fun of him, instead choosing to decorate his space with random blonde actresses.

Pony had shrugged him off, trying to explain to him that those guys reminded him of Dally or Tim Shepard, that they were tuff. He had started to tell him about what Johnny had said about Dally being gallant, but he stopped himself, not sure how to explain. Even he had a hard time understanding what Johnny had meant at first, but he could see it now. Dally was fearless, living his life by his own set of rules. Rules he never wavered from, never compromised. _Of course, _Pony mused, _Dal's rules usually don't mesh well with those of everyone else -'specially the cops._

A picture he had tacked above the desk caught his eye. It was the gang, taken about a year ago. Not everyone was smiling, Darry looked stern as usual, but the mood was obviously light. His mom, realizing everyone was at the house at once - a small feat that didn't happen that often - had run to grab the camera and capture the moment. Dally tried to protest; he was a tough guy, after all and had a rep to protect and posing for a picture was for sissies. Pony's mom, however, knew his arguments were for show and it didn't take her much effort to get him in the shot.

A year ago, the only thing Pony had to worry about was getting his homework done in time to play a game of football in the lot. A year ago, Soda was struggling in school, but toughing it out with his good humor. A year ago, Darry was saving for college. The scholarship he'd won wasn't enough, but he figured he would have enough saved to start the following year.

Pony realized that if everything had gone as planned, Darry would be away at college right now, studying and working toward his future. Instead, he was growing older by the second, sacrificing his dreams to at least give Ponyboy a chance to reach for his.

He continued to look at the photograph, his chest tightening. A month after it was taken, his parents were dead. So much had changed. Those guys in that picture had no idea what fate had in store for them.

Still at a loss at what to write about in his theme, he picked up Johnny's copy of _Gone With the Wind. _He'd brought it home with him the last time he'd been to the hospital, realizing Johnny wasn't going to get around to reading it. He started to aimlessly page through the book, the words a blur. A piece of folded paper dropped onto his desk, startling him.

Confused, he picked it up and unfolded it, surprised to see Johnny's handwriting filling the page. He started to read and it took him a couple of sentences before he realized that Johnny must have written it the night of the rumble. Reading the words brought that night careening back into Ponyboy's memory.

Without closing his eyes, Ponyboy could see Johnny lying before him, weak, struggling for every breath. He watched in mute horror as he slipped away, seemingly dead. For a brief, horrible moment, Pony panicked. Had he imagined the last few months? Was Johnny really still alive or was his mind playing tricks on him?

He took a few deep, unsteady breaths, trying to calm down. _Johnny's okay, _he told himself. He had to repeat it three more times before he gathered the courage to continue reading, to keep the panic at bay. It was times like this that Pony really wished his imagination was a little less intense.

_Listen, I don't mind dying now. It's worth it. It's worth saving those kids. Their lives are worth more than mine, they have more to live for._

Ponyboy's gut clenched at that. All his life, people had been telling Johnny he didn't matter, that he wasn't important. Johnny deserved so much, and he got so little. He wanted to tell Johnny that he was important, that he had a lot to live for. He just wasn't sure how to go about it.

All through the letter, Johnny asked Ponyboy to talk to Dally, to show him a sunset, to tell him there was good in the world. He was pretty sure Dally would've laughed in his face. Although, Pony thought with a smile, maybe one day Dally would have accidentally found himself watching a sunset and he would realize what Johnny meant.

He looked down at the paper in front of him, still blank. He wondered what Mr. Syme and the other teachers thought of students like Johnny. Did they ever give them a second thought? Would Mr. Syme have given Johnny a second chance like he'd given to Pony? _Probably not_, Ponyboy thought. Johnny just kept getting shoved aside, held back, and put into the remedial classes. No one even seemed to care whether he came to school or not.

He read what Johnny wrote about the Robert Frost poem. Pony had carried that poem in his head for forever, trying to figure out what it meant. He realized he'd been making it too complicated. Johnny had it all figured out in a few simple sentences and it made perfect sense. Johnny wasn't stupid and he deserved a shot at a future.

Everyone looked down upon greasers, assumed they were hoodlums and criminals. Maybe telling their story could change that. Maybe he could help someone like Johnny or Dally, help make someone look beyond the grease and the attitude and see the person.

Everything clicked into place and Ponyboy felt a rush of excitement. He couldn't wait to start writing. He had his theme, but first there was something else he had to do, someone he had to get through to. Grabbing a fresh piece of paper and his pencil, he started to write.

* * *

Dally was stretched out on his bunk, legs crossed at his ankles, arms folded behind his head, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He was staring up at the mattress above him, but he wasn't really seeing it. Instead, he was replaying the conversation with Shepard over and over again in his head, trying to sort out what he was going to do. More than anything, he was trying to figure out why he hadn't jumped at the offer as soon as Tim had finished making it. 

_Maybe Shepard's right, maybe I am goin' soft or something, _Dallas thought with a grimace.

A guard was walking the halls, softly whistling as he delivered the mail. Dally wasn't shocked to hear him stop outside his cell.

_Probably something for Tony from his mommy, _Dally rolled his eyes. Everyday, the kid got something from his mom - usually a letter, but sometimes she sent a care package with some books or candy tucked inside.

_If only the damn woman would bake a file into a cake, then we'd be set, _Dally grinned.

"Winston," the guard said as he tapped an envelope against the bars. Surprised to hear his name, Dally sat up, running his fingers through his disheveled hair.

"What?" he asked gruffly.

"Got a letter here for you."

O

O

O

O

_A/N - Hope you guys liked this chapter - one of my friends cried when she read it :-). That has been a goal of mine. _

_Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed the holidays. Thank you for all the reviews. Also, this story won "best gang" for the Wrong Side of the Tracks awards and I wanted to thank everyone who voted - it was a great Christmas present :-)_


	15. Chapter 15

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 15**

Sitting on his bunk, Dally looked at the envelop in his hands. It was from Ponyboy. So far, the only letters he'd received were from Johnny. Nobody else had written to him while he'd been locked up, and he liked it that way. Letters were for guys with attachments, with families. Dally had neither and that's the way he wanted it.

_Dallas,_

_It sure feels strange to write you a letter. You don't really seem like the letter reading type to me. _

"Damn straight, kid," Dally mumbled.

_Johnny said he wrote you a couple of times but he hadn't heard back from you. So I guess you're not really the letter writing type, either._

_It feels like you've been gone forever, although I'm pretty sure it seems longer on your end. The gang misses you. I know you'd never admit it, but I bet you miss us, too. _

Dally stood up and began pacing as he continued reading. His cellmate, napping on the top bunk, was roused by Dally's movements.

"Somethin' wrong, Winston?" Tony asked, half awake.

"How many times I gotta tell you --"

"I know, I know. 'Mind your own fucking business' ," Tony said with a yawn and then rolled over, his back to Dally.

_Johnny's getting a little bit better every day. He started physical therapy a couple of days ago. It wears him out something fierce, but he's getting stronger._

_My grades aren't as good as they should be and Darry's been giving me hard time, but at least we aren't fighting as much as we used to._

_Everybody else is pretty much the same. I don't know, it feels like we're all on hold, waiting for you to be released and for Johnny to come home. Waiting for everything to get back to normal, even though that's probably impossible now. _

"Jesus, kid, just get on --" Dally started to say, then suddenly stopped and laughed in spite of himself.

_It's strange, but I can actually hear you grumbling, "get on with it, kid." I'm sure you've probably realized that I had another reason for writing you a letter besides catching you up on the gang. I didn't think it would actually be this hard to talk to you on paper. I mean, it's not like you can punch me for saying something stupid while you're clear across town in the cooler._

"Yeah? Don't tempt me, kid," Dally thought.

_I was sitting here, trying to come up with a topic for a paper I have to write, when I found a letter Johnny had written the night of the rumble. I have to tell you, reading that letter was one of the hardest things I've ever done. He really thought he was dying. I mean, how could he have not thought that - we all did._

Dally sat down and lit a cigarette, surprised to find his hand shaking slightly as he raised the match. This stuff didn't bother him, he told himself as he slowly inhaled the smoke. It didn't mean anything.

_In the letter Johnny asks me to tell you a bunch of things - important things. Dally, I know you won't listen to me, so I've included Johnny's letter so you can read it for yourself. Please, read it and keep it. Give what he says a chance. _

_It's not too late to change your life. Shoot, Dally, your only 17 - you've got a whole lifetime ahead of you, it doesn't have to end under a street light._

_Ponyboy Curtis_

Dally stared at the envelop, Johnny's letter still enclosed in it. He could hear Tim Shepard in the back of his mind, taunting him, daring him to ignore it. Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he pulled out the letter.

* * *

"_Sunsets_, Doc. They want me to look at fuckin' sunsets."

Dally was pacing back and forth in front of Dr. Brown's desk. He had run his fingers through his hair so many times that it was standing on end. "Sunsets, man. What am I supposed to say to that?"

"I don't know. Maybe you could take their advice and take a look at one," Dr. Brown answered calmly, as though it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"Funny," Dally sneered as he pulled out a chair and sat down. He still couldn't believe he was back in the Doc's office, but he didn't know what to do.

Johnny's letter confused the hell out of him and he didn't have anyone to talk to about it. Tony was useless and Shepard, well, he had a pretty good idea what Tim's reaction would be. He could just see it now: _Hey, Shepard, seen any good sunsets lately? _He'd be dead before he hit the ground.

"I didn't mean for it to be funny. Look, I read the letter --"

"That's really not helping here, ya know," Dally said as he narrowed his eyes, not thrilled with the invasion of privacy.

Dr. Brown held up his hands as though to ward off an impending attack. "All mail is screened before prisoners get it, you know that. Anyway, I read the letter and I agree with both boys. You have time to change your life."

"Why does everybody suddenly see me as some sort of project, some lost soul that needs to be saved? I like my life just fine." Dally crossed his arms and rocked back in the chair.

"Then why is this bothering you so much?"

"Shit," Dally looked the ceiling and let out a bitter laugh. "You ain't gonna start with that psychoanalyzing crap again, are you?"

"It's my job, Dallas. If you don't want the _psychoanalyzing crap _then I suggest you find a nice janitor to talk to." Dr. Brown leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, mimicking Dally's body language. "So, there's a question on the table. Are you going to answer it, or are we going to pretend the only reason you asked to see me was because you enjoyed our last conversation so much?"

"Fine." Dally sat forward, resting all four legs of the chair firmly on the floor. "I guess what's bothering me is that I don't get why it's bothering me in the first place."

"How do you mean?"

"I shouldn't care about this shit. So Johnny wants me to look at a sunset, realize the whole world doesn't suck? So what? What will that prove?"

"That your whole life doesn't have to be filled with anger and violence. That you have a choice."

Dally shook his head in frustration. "Is every meeting we have gonna end up at the same place? Forget it. Comin' here was a stupid idea to begin with."

"You shut down when I say it because you know it's true." Dr. Brown said pointedly.

Dally stood up, pushing away the chair and started to head for the door. He stopped before he reached it and turned back to look at the doctor.

"Ya know, it's easy to sit there and talk about choices when you have a nice, cozy house to go home to." He pointed to a framed picture on the desk. "When you've got a wife and two kids waiting for you every night. Ya wanna know what I've got, Doc? Nothing. In my neighborhood, you either find a way out or you dig in and survive. I'm surviving the best way I know how."

* * *

The sky was overcast and gloomy the next day. Tim Shepard was sitting alone on the bench Dallas usually occupied. Dally wasn't surprised to see him there.

"Hey," Dally said as a greeting.

"Hey," Tim returned, taking a drag on his cigarette.

Dally took a deep breath and jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"So," he said with a cold grin, "does that offer still stand?"

* * *

O

O

O

O

O

A/N - Sorry it took a little longer than I planned to update. This was a hard chapter to write. I'd like to thank Tom Waits and Bob Dylan for finally putting me in the right frame of mind (throw in a little John Mellencamp and Eva Cassidy, too).

Thank you for all the great reviews, I'm having so much fun writing this.


	16. Chapter 16

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 16**

"Hey Johnny, how about me and you have a little race?" Two-Bit was grinning like a kid at Christmas, fooling around in a wheelchair that he was trying to tip back into a wheelie.

"Golly, that's a great idea. How does right now sound? Hallway's pretty clear." Johnny said it so seriously that Two-Bit froze in mid-air, the chair precariously balanced on its back wheels.

"Really?" Two-Bit practically squeaked.

"Yeah, really," Johnny answered, trying to keep a straight face, but it was a losing battle and a smile soon spread across his face. Two-Bit laughed so suddenly that he almost sent the chair toppling backwards.

"Geez, you almost got me there, kid. I haven't heard you joke like that since …" Two-Bit was thoughtful for a moment. "Ya know, I don't think I've ever heard you joke like that. Well done." He made a motion as though he was doffing an imaginary hat in admiration.

Johnny grinned and then went back to reading the book he had propped open on a pillow on his lap. Some papers were scattered on the tray attached to his bed and he occasionally stopped reading to write something down.

"So, what ya got there?" Two-Bit wheeled next to the bed and made an exaggerated show of inspecting the book and its contents. "Looks suspiciously like a history text book. I believe I've seen one or two in my day."

"It is," Johnny explained. "It's for US History. Ponyboy brought it by the other day along with some homework."

"Pony's got you doing his homework? Pretty crafty for the kid - didn't think he had it in him."

Johnny sighed and shook his head. "Not his homework - _mine_."

"No offense, but you've already missed a huge chunk of the school year, so why bother?"

"I dunno," Johnny shrugged. "Miss Martin, that's the social worker, she suggested it. I know I ain't got much of a shot of makin' up the whole year, but I should be okay with a class or two. Pony's helping out, gettin' the work from a couple of my teachers and sorta tutoring me."

Two-Bit was looking at him like he'd suddenly grown two heads or maybe a third eye. "You actually volunteered …to do school work … voluntarily?"

"Well, yeah. Sure beats sitting around here all day, doin' nothing," Johnny said quietly, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Ya wanna know something?" he started slowly as he looked down and began to fidget with the pages in the book. "I'm really understanding some of this stuff now. Maybe it's just easier to focus or somethin'."

Two-Bit cuffed him gently on the arm. "You ain't aimin' to graduate before me, are you?"

Johnny looked up and laughed. "Two-Bit, at the rate you're going, your little sister is gonna graduate before you do."

"Yeah, you've got a point there." He grew serious for a moment, his grin fading. "I've been thinkin' I should dropout anyway. Shoot, even my mom's shocked I'm still in school."

Johnny could tell it took a lot for Two-Bit to admit that. He knew what it was like when no one expected you to do well, when no one really cared one way or the other. Sometimes it was just easier to fail.

Before the fire, he had never given school much of thought - it was just something to get through. A place he felt awkward and uncomfortable in. A place he hated a little less than home, giving him the only reason he had not to dropout.

He'd been thinking a lot these last few weeks. He had his second chance but what was he going to do with it?

His physical therapist was constantly talking, rattling off lists of things Johnny could still do and things he would learn to do with time and patience. The guy was persistent; he wanted Johnny to know that there was still a whole world open to him and that he didn't have to let his disability hold him back. He didn't want to break it to the guy that there was a lot more holding him back than being stuck in a wheelchair.

He realized he had to do something, he couldn't just sit around and wait for things to happen to him. He'd been doing that for sixteen years and it had to stop. Hearing Two-Bit talk about dropping out scared him. It would be so easy to just give up.

"What'll you do if you don't go to school?" Johnny asked.

"Guess I'll have to get a job," Two-Bit said with a groan. "I think that's the only reason I've stayed in school. Well, that and the chicks," he admitted with a wink and a chuckle.

"Well, why don't you grab a book, start doing some of the work. Maybe you'll surprise yourself." As he was saying it, Johnny realized it sounded just like something Ponyboy would've said to him.

"Johnnycake, are you sure that beam didn't hit you on the head?" Two-Bit said jokingly, never one to allow a serious moment to last for more than a minute or two. "Next you'll be sayin' we should invite Dally over when he gets released from jail. Hell, we could start our very own one-room-greaser-schoolhouse."

"That's not a bad idea," Johnny said thoughtfully but couldn't hide his smile.

"Geez, kid, we've gotta work on your poker face."

Both boys looked toward the doorway when they heard someone knock twice. The door was propped open and a woman was standing there, waiting to be invited in.

"Miss M-Martin, hi … uh, come on in." Johnny felt his ears grow hot and he silently cursed his awkwardness. Every time he was confronted with someone who wasn't part of the gang, he suddenly became shy and tripped over his words. He was getting tired of it.

Miss Martin stepped into the room. She was wearing another uncomfortable looking suit, this one was black instead of gray. Her hair was back in that bun again and Johnny had a hard time imagining her looking relaxed and laid back. She didn't look old, but she sure acted like she wanted people to think she was.

As though he suddenly possessed manners, Two-Bit stood and extended his hand in greeting. "Hello there, you must be the infamous Miss Martin," he said congenially as they shook hands. "Wow, you certainly are much cute--" Johnny loudly cleared his throat, interrupting Two-Bit, who recovered quickly,"--younger than the social worker assigned to the Curtis'."

"And you must be Keith," she replied with a knowing smile. Johnny wasn't sure, but it looked like she was trying to hold back a laugh.

"Well, my friends call me Two-Bit," he said with a wink as he returned to the wheelchair and Johnny fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Miss Martin pulled an empty chair up to the bed and sat down. "Johnny, I spoke with your doctor today. He said that if everything stays on track you'll be released in two weeks."

"Two weeks, hey that's great," Two-Bit said enthusiastically.

Staring straight ahead at the plain, white wall, Johnny simply shrugged and didn't say anything. He already knew - the doc had talked to him that morning.

"Well, ain't you excited about getting out of here?" His friend prodded but Johnny didn't answer, he could feel panic starting to well up inside of him and he tried to keep it bottled up. He didn't want to think about leaving the hospital. He didn't want to think about going to jail, or a boys' home, or foster care, or any other number of possible scenarios that have played through his mind whenever he allowed his thoughts to go there.

Miss Martin reached over and gently touched his arm. He looked over at her, his dark eyes full of unspoken fears.

"It's okay to be scared," she said quietly.

* * *

_A/N - Thanks again for all the reviews - I broke 100 !!!_


	17. Chapter 17

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 17**

_Man, if Ponyboy thought it looked like we were in Halloween costumes in Windrixville, wait until he gets a load of this, _Johnny thought with a grimace as he studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

He didn't look like himself, that was for sure. Miss Martin talked him into getting a haircut. He tried to protest at first, but gave up pretty easily. Reluctantly, he admitted that his hair was still a mess from the haircut Ponyboy gave him at the church, but it was finally starting to get long again. Now it was back to being short and he missed the shield of bangs he always hid behind. At least he'd won the battle over the hair pomade and he felt like he could retain that little piece of his identity. After all, he was a greaser and he wanted everyone to know he wasn't embarrassed by that.

Miss Martin was also responsible for the suit he was currently trapped in. He had nothing to wear to court - all his stuff was still at his folks, if they hadn't trashed it yet. It wasn't like he had anything respectable to wear anyway. Ratty jeans and faded t-shirts don't exactly make the best impressions with hard-nosed judges. He was glad she'd brought him something to wear; he just secretly wished it wasn't so, well, stuffy. She explained that it belonged to her brother who had grown out of it a few years ago. Johnny found himself imagining her family, sitting around the dinner table, all dressed as though they were headed to some boring business meeting - parents, grandparents, kids - all wearing matching three-piece suits.

The suit was dark gray and stiff and it almost made him wish he could wear a hospital gown to court instead. Underneath, he wore a button-down white shirt that was scratchy - he figured that was from starch but he wasn't sure since his mother sure as hell never used the stuff. The worst, though, was the tie. He was tempted to lie to Miss Martin and tell her the burns on his neck did still hurt just so he could get out of wearing the thing. As it was, the scars were beginning to itch something fierce and he found himself constantly fidgeting with the stupid tie.

He felt ridiculous, like he was playing dress up. Trying to make like he was a soc or something. They weren't fooling anyone, he wanted to tell her, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings. She really seemed to care, and if she didn't … well, she was really good at faking it.

There was a soft knock on the door. "Johnny," Miss Martin said in a loud whisper, "it's time to go."

He sighed and took one last look at his reflection and the stranger that stared back at him. He looked scared - hell, he was scared. He felt his gut clench and his hands started to shake. It was the same feeling he had everyday just before he'd open the door to his house - uncertain of what set of parents would be waiting for him behind it. Would it be the drunk, indifferent parents who ignored him? Or would it be the drunk, hateful parents who would scream at him and beat him into the corner just for stepping through that door? It was a daily crapshoot which he usually lost.

He thought of Dally - Dally wouldn't be scared. Dallas Winston wasn't scared of anything. Shoot, he'd been in front of the judge more times than any guy Johnny knew, even Tim Shepard. But then he remembered - Dally didn't want this for him, he didn't want him to have to go through all the hard stuff he'd gone through. _Well, _he thought, _there's no way outta that now._

Still looking in the mirror, he squared his shoulders, told himself not to slouch. He had to try to not look defeated. He could do this, he _had_ to do this. If he could make himself open that door to his house day in and day out for sixteen years then he could do this.

* * *

Miss Martin was standing just outside the door, patiently waiting for him in the courthouse hallway. He was surprised to see that she was surrounded by his friends. He had only really expected Ponyboy and Two-Bit to be there since they both had to testify about what happened that night. The fact that everyone else would come was a possibility he hadn't even hoped for. 

"Hi guys," he said quietly, self consciously running his fingers through his short hair.

"Hey, Johnny," Soda said with a grin, "you're looking good there, pal."

Johnny reddened and awkwardly adjusted his tie for what must have been the fiftieth time. "If you say so ..."

"Ya clean up good, kid," Steve said with a nod, as though he was giving his stamp of approval.

Ponyboy was standing next to Soda and Darry, looking a little pale and kind of scared. He didn't say anything, just gave Johnny a shaky smile.

Two-Bit, however, came bounding over to Johnny's chair and knelt down. He reached up and messed up Johnny's hair. "Hey, Johnnykid, what say you and me head on out after this shindig is over and we cruise for chicks? With your fancy duds and my winning personality, we'll be fighting 'em off with a stick."

Johnny pushed his hand out of the way and tried to fix his hair. "Sure, Two-Bit, whatever. Just stay outta my hair, man."

Two-Bit laughed as he stood up and pulled out a pack of chewing tobacco. "Two-Bit …" Steve said with a warning tone.

"What? Ya want some?" he asked through a mouthful of tobacco as he offered the pack to his unsmiling friend. Steve didn't respond, but he didn't have to. His eyes spoke volumes and they were basically telling Two-Bit to shut-the-hell-up.

A couple of people were entering the courtroom and Johnny recognized some of the socs who jumped him and Ponyboy that night. One of the guys elbowed another one and pointed at him, unsuccessfully trying to hide a cruel laugh. Johnny figured they thought they were being discreet, or they just didn't care. Either way, he was surprised that he didn't feel hatred toward them, more of an exhausted indifference. He was just tired of all of it - tired of the socs, tired of the fighting, tired of being scared.

Cherry and her friend Marcia also walked by them on their way inside. Cherry's eyes met his and she gave him a small smile that held a hint of sadness. He tried to return the smile but found that he couldn't. He'd killed her boyfriend, he didn't think he deserved her kindness.

Johnny noticed Cherry's gaze move to Ponyboy, but Pony either didn't realize she was there or he was ignoring her. His eyes were fixed on the floor and he didn't look up until she left the hallway.

Time was growing short and Darry came up behind Johnny and grabbed the handles on the back of his wheelchair. "Guess we should head on in. Okay with you, Johnny?" he asked as he began to push the chair forward.

"Yeah," Johnny answered as he grabbed the wheels, halting the chair, "but I think I need to do this part on my own."

Darry let go of the handles and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We'll be right behind ya, kid."

* * *

_A/N - Not a very long chapter, I know - but it felt like a good place to end it. I hope you liked it. Thanks again for the reviews._


	18. Chapter 18

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 18**

The music and laughter drifted outside and Darry smiled. He was sitting on the steps of the porch, alone with his thoughts. The day had rattled him more than he thought it would. He wasn't sure why, he had heard all the testimony before at Ponyboy's hearing. Maybe it was that time had passed and things weren't as fresh as before and there weren't as many distractions as last time. Remembering that awful, frightening week felt new and raw - like he was reliving it all over again.

He'd almost lost his little brother. Lost him - not just as a runaway, or to a boys' home, or to jail. He'd almost completely and irrevocably lost him. They meant to kill him. If Johnny hadn't … if Johnny hadn't done what he did … Ponyboy would be dead.

He couldn't get the pictures out of his head. Ponyboy being dragged violently to the fountain. Ponyboy being pushed repeatedly under the water, held down against his will. Ponyboy fighting back but getting weaker, growing still.

Those socs had talked about it on the stand, their voices flat, their eyes dead. When Johnny's lawyer cross-examined them, they seemed stunned out of their stupor, shocked that anyone could find them at fault. Darry couldn't help wondering what would have happened if Pony had died. Would Bob and his friends be where Johnny was today? Would they have to defend their actions? Would anyone have held them accountable?

That one soc, Randy Adderson, had surprised him. He seemed genuinely upset. He had been like that at Pony's hearing, too, but Darry had been too distracted to really notice. After leaving the stand, Randy went over to Johnny's table and offered a halting, awkward apology. Darry had never seen anything like it and he was positive the other socs in the courtroom hadn't either. They looked stunned and angry. He was pretty sure Randy Adderson lost a lot of friends today.

Cherry Valance stood up for Ponyboy at his trial and she did the same for Johnny. She appeared calm and cool during her testimony, but Darry found his gaze drawn to her hands. She held a plain white handkerchief which she twisted and twisted into a tight knot while she spoke. Inside she must be like that handkerchief, he thought. Twisted up into knots, feeling like she was betraying her boyfriend but realizing she had to tell the truth.

Johnny made him proud when he testified. Darry knew he was scared, he could see it in his eyes, but he spoke carefully and confidently. His remorse was evident and his wish that things could have gone another way colored everything he said. The judge asked him if he would do it again if the clock could be turned back and he could relive that night. Johnny visibly paled at the thought and it took him a few seconds gain his composure before answering. He quietly said that he would if he had to protect his friend, if that was the only way to save him. Darry thought it was one of the bravest things he'd ever heard.

The door opened quietly behind him but he didn't turn around. He didn't look over as Sarah Martin brushed off a spot on the steps and sat down beside him, primly smoothing her skirt over her knees.

"So …" she said hesitantly, not sure how to start a conversation with him.

"So …" he repeated in a flat tone, not really wanting to have a conversation to begin with.

She sighed. "So, what are you doing out here? Celebration's in there." She jerked her thumb behind her, indicating the house.

A burst of laughter erupted from inside and he easily identified it as belonging to Sodapop. "They're doing just fine without me," he said as he stretched out, bracing his elbows behind him on the worn boards of the porch.

Legs crossed, he looked relaxed and at ease, but Sarah could sense a tension and tautness that didn't mesh with his outward appearance. She really should just leave him be, she thought to herself, but found herself drawn to him. He set himself apart from everyone else; he was the lone adult in a sea of teenagers. Who did he tell his thoughts and problems to?

"Okay," she said in a no-nonsense tone, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he answered, his tone a bit harsh.

"Sure, you're just out here all by yourself, admiring the stars. Because, if there is a dreamer in this family, it's definitely you, Darrel Curtis."

Caught off guard by her sudden, dry sense of humor, Darry threw his head back and let out a deep laugh. He sat up, and rubbed his hand over his eyes as though he was trying to banish a headache.

"Fine, fine - you got me. I was daydreaming. It's a bad habit of mine."

"Sure you were," she said with a smile. "You can tell me what's bothering you if you want. Who better than someone you barely know and may never see again?"

"Yeah, who better than a social worker who could exploit my weaknesses and take my brothers away from me?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as though to challenge her.

"Who better than a social worker who has, for the past hour, been ignoring the fact that one of your friends has been making frequent trips into the kitchen, sneaking sips of beer?" she countered.

Darry stood up suddenly. "Damn it. Two-Bit!" he said angrily. Sarah reached up and tugged on his arm, forcing him to sit back down.

"Relax. I said I was ignoring it."

"We don't drink. Not Pony, not Soda. I swear," he explained in a rush.

"I believe you," she said, but Darry kept talking, drowning out her words.

"Two-Bit keeps sneaking the stuff into the house so his mom doesn't find it. Soda and Pony don't touch the stuff. Well, Pony did once after our parents died and, trust me, he won't be doing that again for …" he trailed off when he realized Sarah was staring at him, an amused look on her face. "You're ignoring it," he repeated her words back to her as though he had just heard them.

"I'm ignoring it," she confirmed, her eyes crinkling behind her glasses as she smiled and Darry visibly relaxed.

Sarah sat silently with him for a couple of minutes, watching a leaf make it's way down the battered sidewalk, carried by the breeze. The strands of an Elvis song danced lazily in the chilly night air and she could hear one of the boys crooning along - badly. She turned to look through the window and saw Two-Bit, gyrating for all he was worth, singing into a Pepsi bottle as though it were a microphone.

Pulling her suit jacket closer to ward of the chill, she stood and made her way over to the window to get a better look, careful not to be seen by the occupants inside. She didn't want to spoil the moment.

She covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a laugh as she watched Two-Bit draw his lip into a sneer and twirl a finger through a lock of his hair, pulling it into a curl. Soda stood up and started dancing around wildly in his stocking feet. His handsome face lit up with a huge smile. He pulled Steve to his feet, who awkwardly stood there for a moment before making a half-hearted attempt at moving his hips. Soda stopped for a moment, shrugged and then bounced away while Two-Bit continued to sing.

Her gaze moved to Johnny and Ponyboy, they were sitting apart from everyone - Pony on the floor next to Johnny's chair, laughing and clapping along. Johnny was watching the impromptu concert, a smile on his face, but Sarah also recognized the worry. Every once in while, he would raise his hand to his mouth and start biting his nails.

Sighing, she rested her head against the frame of the window. She felt a worry of her own creep up on her. She wanted to help give Johnny a better life. She was finding it a tough road to go down, doors weren't readily open to people in his situation. Trying to find an alternative to a group home was proving much more difficult than she had anticipated. She had an idea, someone she thought would be right, but convincing them was not going to be easy.

She was determined to get this right, not just to prove Darry wrong. His challenge to her in her office was still fresh in her mind, but this was about so much more than keeping her pride. She really liked Johnny, had begun to care about him. He had so much pain in his life, she didn't want to cause more.

She had driven by his parents' house and shuddered at the dilapidated sight that greeted her. It wasn't hard to imagine the people that would occupy such a place - people who would routinely abuse their child for no real reason other than their own self-loathing. Sarah was positive they gave him up for purely selfish and cruel reasons. Inadvertently, however, they'd given their son a gift. They'd given him a chance at a better life away from them. Now it was up to her to make sure that gift didn't go to waste.

Darry stepped up behind her, startling her and causing her to almost lose her balance in her high heels. He reached out to steady her and she felt an odd jolt at the contact. He didn't seem to notice, his focus entirely on the scene visible through the glass. He was enjoying the moment as much as she had been a few minutes ago. She knew the instant his gaze landed on Johnny. He grew still, like she had.

"He saved my little brother's life," Darry said quietly.

"I know," she whispered, her eyes still fixed on the quiet boy in the wheelchair.

"I hadn't really realized until today how close …" Darry stopped, taking a deep breath, "how close they'd come to killing Ponyboy."

"At least the judge got it right," she said, turning to look Darry in the eye. "He knew it was self-defense."

"Yeah, seems there's at least one person in this town who doesn't automatically think _greaser _equals _guilty_," Darry said, a note of frustration in his voice.

"So what happens now?" Darry asked and she hesitated in answering. She didn't have a concrete answer yet and she sensed that Darry liked to see things carved in stone.

"I'm working on it." As she said it she noticed an immediate change sweep through Darry.

"I knew it," he snapped.

"Darry …"

"Shouldn't you know by know where the kid is going to go?" Darry was angry and she couldn't blame him. This was her first case working on her own and she was aggravated with the way the system worked.

"Johnny's doctor is officially releasing him from the hospital in two days. He needs special care and I have a placement in mind," she explained.

"A boys' home," Darry ground the words out between clenched teeth.

"Not a boys' home - a real home. I should have the details ironed out tomorrow. I was in limbo, waiting for a verdict." It sounded like an excuse, but it was the truth.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Darry said evenly, his cynical smirk telling her he didn't think that would happen.

She looked hurt and angry and he felt a surge of remorse. He was about to say something else when the front door opened, interrupting him. It was Sodapop, his face flushed from the jubilant dancing and horsing around.

"Guys, watcha doin' out here? You're missing all the fun," he said as he tried to catch his breath.

Sarah didn't say anything. Arms wrapped tightly around herself, she eased past Soda into the warmth of the house.

Darry stood there silently, staring after her in frustration. Soda remained outside, holding the door open. He had a confused look on his face and Darry could sense his mind working, creating any number of scenarios for why his brother and the social worker would be alone outside.

"Darry, what was that about?" Soda asked. His eyebrow was raised and a grin was forming on his lips. Darry shook his head, knowing instinctively where his brother's mind had gone.

"It wasn't about anything," Darry answered, his stony expression daring Soda to contradict him. "Not a damned thing."

Darry started to walk through the doorway and stopped midway. Turning, he leaned toward his brother. "And Soda, tell Two-Bit to quit it with the beer tonight. He ain't foolin' anyone."

* * *

_A/N - Hope you guys like this chapter. I wanted to write about the trial without having to actually write the trial, lol. Anyway, thanks again for all the reviews :-)_


	19. Chapter 19

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 19**

It was a cold, but beautiful day. The sun was bright, brighter than it had been in days. The sky was so blue that it seemed fake - like an artist had painted it, dotting it with whimsical white clouds that looked like something from a storybook. To Pony, that seemed fitting; it reminded him of his mother. Every memory of his mother was filled with bright, vibrant colors - like a world trapped between reality and fantasy.

He was glad that today of all days was one his mother would have loved, that both his parents would have loved it. It made remembering easier, less painful. The tears still came, he didn't know if this day would ever be met without its share of tears. He doubted it.

It was an early morning for the Curtis brothers. It was a Saturday, so Pony didn't have school, but both Soda and Darry had to get to work. They could have waited until later, but somehow that didn't seem right. The day had to start with this, not end with it.

The sun rose as they drove along the almost empty roads. The sky was bathed with pale washes of color, an artist's paintbrush bringing beauty to the roughest of neighborhoods. Pony thought of Windrixville and the sunrise he and Johnny watched. This one was just as beautiful, but different. That one had been golden and warm, this one was cool and peaceful.

The cemetery was empty and still, almost serene. He'd come here a couple of times on his own - talking to his parents, sharing his hopes and fears. Telling them things he'd wish he'd told them when they were alive. Today, he'd realized how much easier it was to talk to them when he was alone. Here, in front of his brothers, he felt uncomfortable and the words caught in his throat. Soda and Darry were silent, too, and he wondered if they felt the same way.

So there they all stood, quiet and stoic. Well, at first. Soon, Soda was silently crying and Pony felt his own tears well up as he comforted his brother. Darry, of course, didn't cry. His face remained stony and cold, but Pony saw a softness in his eyes that he hadn't noticed before. They stayed like that as the sun rose higher in the sky, taking the edge off the frigid air.

Darry looked at his watch and turned to his brothers. "Well, it's time we got goin'." He started walking away from the graves but stopped for a moment and then tossed his keys to Sodapop. "You guys head back and start the truck, get it heated up. I'll be down in a second."

Soda threw his arm over Ponyboy's shoulders, leading him down the hill toward the road. "Come on, kiddo. Let's give Darry a minute alone."

Darry knelt in front of the pair of headstones, glancing behind him to make sure he was alone. He started talking hesitantly, feeling extremely self-conscious and a little awkward.

"Gosh, I miss you guys so much." He found that once he started it became easier to talk to them. His unease was forgotten and the words came tumbling out.

"I'm trying to do right by you, we all are. I find myself constantly asking myself how you guys would have handled stuff, and trust me, there's been a lot of stuff to handle. And I know I've gotten a lot of things wrong - fought with Pony when I should have stopped and listened to him." Darry shook his head and gave a shaky laugh.

"Oh man, Pony. I hope I'm not screwing him up permanently, it's just so tough. He pushes and pushes and I don't even think he realizes he does it. It's like he's testing me or something . Well, I keep pushing back and sometimes I think he hates me. I keep telling myself: 'Only four more years and Pony'll be an adult.' Only four more years … but it won't end there, will it?" Darry smiled, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Ya know what? I'm glad that it won't end there. All three of us will always be there for each other, I want you guys to know that. We'll never be alone." He brushed a leaf off his mother's headstone as he stood slowly. "I just … I hope we're making you proud," he said, his voice catching unexpectedly. Clearing his throat, he turned and made his way down the hill to join his waiting brothers.

Once in the car, they still had a bit of a ride ahead of them. Darry was dropping Pony off at the hospital. Johnny was being released today and Pony had volunteered to help Sarah get his stuff together and get him settled with his new foster parents. Ponyboy thought it was fitting that the day that he lost part of his family was the day Johnny would find one. He hoped everything would work out for his friend.

When they had gotten in the truck, Ponyboy had turned on the radio. Darry soon turned it off, growing uncomfortable listening to cheery pop tunes moments after visiting their parents. Pony tried small talk, but Darry only felt like giving one word answers and Soda didn't seem to want to say anything.

Enveloped in silence, Darry glanced over toward the passenger side window and his unnaturally mute middle brother. "You okay over there, little buddy? You're awfully quiet."

Soda sighed heavily and leaned his head back, looking up at the sky through the back window as the truck made its way through the familiar streets. "Yeah. I was just thinkin'," he said sadly. "I can't believe it's been a year."

"I know," Darry said.

"And then I can't decide if I can't believe it because it feels like it's been longer or if it feels like it's been shorter. Somehow, it feels like both and that doesn't make any sense." Soda quickly brushed at the tears that were forming in his eyes. He'd already done enough bawling at the cemetery, he scolded himself.

"A year …" Pony said quietly, almost a whisper. Not another word was spoken the rest of the trip.

* * *

"Do you want me to come with you?" Pony asked while he sat on the hospital bed, watching as Sarah gathered all of the stuff that had piled up in Johnny's room in the past couple of months. 

"Well …" Johnny began, but Sarah interrupted him.

"That's a wonderful idea, Ponyboy, but it's probably best if Johnny met them on his own." She said it nicely, but Pony knew she meant it in the adult way of telling you what to do without really telling you what to do. It was a technique Darry was quickly becoming a master at.

"She's right," Johnny said, although he looked miserable. Nerves were always Johnny's undoing and right now it looked like they were stretched to their breaking point. If he wasn't confined to that chair, he'd be up and pacing and probably smoking like a fiend. Ponyboy hoped that after today Johnny would finally feel settled and safe and begin to heal. Ponyboy couldn't blame him for being scared, he had his share of worry over being taken away from Darry and getting placed in a situation out of his control.

He was relieved Johnny was being placed with foster parents instead of in a group home, but he still had a gnawing in his gut that something could go wrong. He knew as well as Johnny that foster parents didn't automatically equal kind and caring. He'd heard stories and realized Johnny could end up with carbon copies of his parents. The chances were slim, but sometimes it was just easier to be a pessimistic greaser than an optimistic one - the disappointments didn't hurt as much that way.

"Are … are they nice?" Johnny asked hesitantly.

Sarah stopped in the middle of what she was doing and she smiled a smile that looked wistful to Ponyboy, but he wasn't sure why.

"Yes," she said, "they're nice."

She seemed different today. It was Saturday and maybe she allowed herself to relax on Saturdays. She was wearing tan slacks and a blue sweater and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, making her seem more approachable. She told them to call her Sarah instead of Miss Martin, explaining that she was getting a crick in her neck from looking behind her for her mother every time someone said "Miss Martin". Johnny tried, but he kept messing up and stumbling over her name.

Pony found himself feeling more at ease around her and he hoped he didn't slip-up and say something stupid in front of her - she was still a social worker and he had to think of her as the enemy. Okay, enemy was a pretty strong word, but she could still really make his life miserable if he accidentally talked about Two-Bit's drinking and shoplifting, or Steve stealing hubcaps, or Dally … well, Dally being Dally.

"Do they have any other foster kids living with them?" Ponyboy asked. He'd read at the library that sometimes foster parents took care of several kids at once, sometimes all different ages. He wasn't sure how Johnny would react if that were the case with these people.

"No. Actually, Johnny you'll be their first and probably their last," she explained.

"Why do you say that?" Johnny asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"I asked them to do this. They've never considered being foster parents before." As she spoke, she was grabbing the last of the cards and pictures that had personalized the space. Throughout the course of Johnny's stay, Ponyboy and Two-Bit had managed to fill his room with little reminders of home and the gang. Pony hadn't realized just how much stuff there was until he saw it threatening to tumble out of the box Sarah was trying to force it all into.

Johnny was chewing on his bottom lip, trying to sort out her explanation. "Miss Ma --uh, Sarah, I'm not really gettin' what you mean."

She finally stopped scurrying around long enough to pull up a chair across from Johnny. Some of her hair had come loose from the scarf holding it back and she brushed it behind her ear. She had a small, tentative smile on her lips, like she wasn't quite sure how what she had to say was going to be received. Ponyboy just wished she'd get it over with already, the anticipation was eating up all the air in the room.

"Johnny, you're going to be living with my parents," Sarah said in a serious tone.

"Geez," Ponyboy said suddenly, startling both Johnny and Sarah. "Sorry," he said with a laugh. "It's just from the way you were talkin' it was like you were sendin' him to live with a cop or something. And people say I'm melodramatic."

Sarah raised an eyebrow and gave a tiny laugh that sounded a bit nervous to Ponyboy. "Well, actually, it's funny that you should mention that …"

"What? That I'm melodramatic? You should just ask Darry, he says it --"

"Not that Pony," Johnny interrupted quietly. "I think she means the part about the cop."


	20. Chapter 20

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 20**

"He's retired." That was easily the fourth time Sarah had stated that fact - twice in the hospital and twice now in the car. If he hadn't been so nervous, Johnny would have started to find it funny.

"Really - I swear," she added, holding up three fingers like she was a girl scout or something - making a pact. She was smiling, and Johnny didn't think she realized just how messed up she was making his life.

Cops hate greasers and greasers hate cops, it's a fact of life. One well-meaning social worker wasn't going to change all that. He was sure Dally would have said something like: "There's no such thing as a retired cop," and he probably would have been right.

Johnny sighed heavily and leaned his head against the cool glass of the passenger side window. At least he looked like a greaser today and he wasn't going to meet her parents in some silly costume. He was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a jean jacket. They may be new, but they were familiar and he was finally beginning to feel like himself for the first time in a long time.

"Retired - fine, I believe you," he told her, trying to make her happy but failing to keep the frustration out of his voice. They had just dropped Ponyboy off at his house and they were making their way to Johnny's new home. It turned out he was going to be living only fifteen minutes from his old neighborhood. It might as well be on another planet, though, because it wasn't like his friends were going to jump at the chance to come hang out at the home of a cop, retired or not.

He started to wonder if her dad ever arrested Dally. Probably. Dal liked to brag that arresting him was sort of a rite of passage for the local police. Maybe he could ask about it over dinner - should make for an interesting conversation, Johnny thought, grinning despite himself.

"Dad left the force two years ago. He was injured in the line of duty and they made him take an early retirement," Sarah explained. "Now he works as a security guard at the Sears in the Promenade downtown."

Johnny knew the store, it was one Two-Bit excelled at shoplifting in. He didn't think now was the best time to share that bit of information. This whole thing was just getting better and better by the second.

"He doesn't really work for the money, more so just for something to do. He was bored and driving my mother crazy. I think he realized he needed to get out of the house when he started planning his whole day around Search for Tomorrow and The Guiding Light." She laughed, but Johnny didn't respond. He just stared silently out the window, watching the houses go by in a blur.

Sarah looked over at him and she felt her heart twist. "Johnny, I didn't do this as some sort of a trap or to trick you. My parents are great people. My mom is a nurse but she took a leave of absence about a year ago. She keeps saying she'll go back, but I don't know if I believe her anymore."

She started to wonder if she was trying to convince him or if, on some level, she was trying to convince herself. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, now she wasn't so sure. Johnny didn't just look worried, he looked terrified.

"Look, it was either this or a group home. I know I'm not supposed to bad-mouth the system - heck, I am the system. A boys' home would have been a mess. You would have hated it there and you wouldn't have gotten the care and attention you need." Johnny finally looked over at her, a guarded look in his dark eyes.

"I tried to find a foster family who would be able to handle your special needs," she saw him wince at that and knew he didn't like to be reminded about his disability and continued recovery and rehabilitation. "I couldn't find anyone that I trusted, and like I said, my mom's a nurse - a great nurse. She'll be able to help you with all the things your doctor said you'll still need help with, and she's really great at just being a mom."

She smiled at Johnny, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "And my dad's pretty cool, too. I'll make sure to tell him not to arrest any of your friends."

She was rewarded with a tentative smile from Johnny. "Promise?" he asked.

"Promise," she said with a wink as she maneuvered the car into the driveway. She nodded toward the windshield, indicating the view outside. "We're here," she said as she turned off the car and unhooked her seatbelt.

Johnny looked out the window. It was much bigger than his parents' house, that was for sure. It wasn't a soc house, but it certainly wasn't a greaser house, either.

It was … nice.

It was hard to believe this place was fifteen minutes from his old neighborhood, it felt like a completely different world. He remembered telling Ponyboy that he just wanted to be where people were people - _plain ordinary people. _This looked like that kind of place and, despite his reservations and against his better judgment, he found himself hoping he was right.

* * *

The silence was deafening.

Sarah's mom had a smile that seemed to be frozen on her face. Her dad looked like he was in pain - like he'd rather be anywhere but there. And Johnny … well, he was staring intently at his sneakers.

Sarah cleared her throat, breaking the hypnotic trance that seemed to have gripped the house.

"Mom, Dad - this is Johnny," she said warmly as she stepped up behind Johnny and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Slowly, Johnny raised his head, forcing himself to look them in the eye. He was met with gazes that were hesitant and unsure, but seemed kind. Her mom was still smiling.

"Hello, Johnny. It's nice to meet you," she said, her voice wavering slightly. He nodded in response, unsure of what to say. She looked like her daughter, only heavier and her dark blonde hair was shorter and threaded with gray. She looked nice, like what a mother should look like. His own mom reminded him of a crow - bitter and ugly.

"Well, my name's Mary and this is Tom." She gently nudged her husband in the side, prompting him to talk.

"Hey," he said gruffly. He was a big guy, bigger than Darry, even. He had a stern look about him and Johnny had no trouble imagining him in a police uniform. Hell, he wouldn't even need one to be identified as a cop, the gang would've known the minute they spotted him.

"Hey," Johnny managed to mumble quietly.

"Hey," Tom said again, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Johnny realized he was just as nervous as he was and probably had no idea what to say or do, either. Luckily, Sarah was there to guide things.

"Geez, guys," she said with more than a hint of exasperation, "talk about your sparkling conversation."

Tom threw up his hands. "What --?" he started to say, but was cut-off by a glare from his wife. Shaking her head, Mary turned and walked down the foyer that opened up into a big kitchen.

Tom stepped to the side as Sarah pushed the wheelchair, following her mother. She grinned at her dad and made a "tsking" sound as she passed by him. "What?" he asked again, clearly not understanding the women in his life.

Mary was explaining things as they made their way through the house. Pointing out the dining room and family room. Making note of the deck off the back and the big backyard.

Johnny looked around, feeling apprehension prickle the back of his neck. It was so different from what he was used to. Everything was clean and bright; it felt sunny and cheerful - like a Hallmark card come to life. Certainly nothing on the East side of town would be described as sunny and cheerful. He felt so out of place.

They came to a door off the family room and Mary opened it as though she was revealing the secret behind door number one.

"And this is your room, Johnny," she explained as Johnny slowly wheeled through the doorway. "It used to be Tom's study, but he never used it for anything except to sneak his cigars. We made it into a bedroom when my mother came to stay with us after she had a stroke - gosh, was that five years ago? Luckily, we never changed it back."

The room was big - almost as big as what passed for the family room at his house. A dresser was up against one wall and there was a desk under a big window. Two end tables flanked a hospital bed. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised to see that here, Sarah had said something about the hospital sending over supplies.

One thing he noticed right away was the pink. Lots of it. And flowers - wallpapered over every square inch. Sarah looked around like she was seeing the room for the first time.

"Um, well - it's pink," she said, biting back a laugh. "I guess I never really noticed before."

"That woman sure did love her pink and those god-awful flowers," Tom said from the doorway, shaking his head. "We'll pick out some new paint tomorrow, kid. Okay with you?"

"Uh … sure," Johnny said slowly.

"Unless you'd rather keep the Pepto-Bismol and the garden from hell," Tom said with a raised eyebrow.

"No," Johnny said quickly, causing everyone in the room to laugh. Johnny felt his face grow hot as he blushed, but he found himself laughing along with everyone else.

"Alright," Mary said as she wiped tears from her eyes, "I'm going to go make lunch, Tom you're going to help me, and Sarah you're going to get Johnny settled."

Mary left the room, pulling her husband behind her.

Sarah sat down on the bed and looked at Johnny. "So, what do you think?" she asked, worrying her bottom lip, waiting in anticipation.

"Well …" Johnny began, trying to choose his words carefully. "It's different."

Sarah's shoulders slumped. "Different good? Or different bad?"

Johnny wheeled over the window, it looked out over the backyard. There was a bench next to some trees and a small clearing he assumed would be a garden full of flowers in a month or two. It would be a great place to lay out and look at the stars. He could see Pony sitting there, reading a book and probably daydreaming. A huge expanse of land was free from trees and would be perfect for playing catch or a game of football with the guys.

He thought of his house with the patch of dirt that was riddled with broken beer bottles and trash. The only thing green that ever grew there were the weeds - the only thing his mother knew how to cultivate was a hangover.

He thought of his room, with the old, lumpy mattress sitting on the worn carpet, the frame busted years earlier. The walls were colored with grime, not paint, and cracks and water damaged snaked through the cheap plaster. The small closet across from the bed was more for hiding from his dad than for keeping his pitifully small wardrobe of clothes.

He looked around his new room again, taking in the nice furniture, the desk, and even the "god-awful" flowers. He thought about her parents in the kitchen making lunch. He can't remember his mother ever making him lunch, or smiling, or laughing.

He was wary of Tom; he wasn't sure what to make of him yet. But he didn't scare him like his dad did. With his dad it was the uncertainty - what would set him off? Sometimes all it took was a look he didn't like or an answer he wasn't looking for. Sometimes it didn't take anything at all.

Hopefully, he would never have to see them again.

_Second chances,_ everyone kept telling him. _Well, second chances sure don't get much more obvious than this, _he thought to himself.

"Different good," he answered with a small smile. "Definitely different good."


	21. Chapter 21

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 21**

He wanted to hit something. No, scratch that - he _needed_ to hit something.

The kid had been released earlier today. The scene had been a touching one:

"_See ya, Dallas. Keep out of trouble," Tony said cheerfully as he stepped through the door to the cell he'd been confined to for the past four months._

"_Whatever. Get a fucking life, stupid, and try not to be such a loser," Dally offered as his own special brand of parting advice._

"_Yeah, Winston, I'm gonna miss you, too." _

Who would have thought he'd be stuck with someone even more pathetic than _Tony_ and his _feelings_ and his need to talk _all-the-fucking-time_?

Well, apparently someone in the Oklahoma penal system thought it'd be funny to place a sobbing, sniveling pansy in a cell with Dallas Winston. Torture, it seemed, was now permissible and they were determined to go to any lengths to make the remaining two months of his sentence as miserable as possible.

He'd had the cell to himself for two peaceful hours. There was no one there to question his every move, no one to try and start a conversation with him, no one to annoy the shit out of him just by breathing too loud. It was the best two hours he'd spent in a long time.

He should have known it was too good to be true.

"Got a new friend for ya here, Winston." The guard said as he unlocked the door and ushered in a new occupant.

"Don't need any more friends, if it's all the same to you," Dally said, taking a drag on a cigarette as he stood by the barred window, his back to the cell door.

The view sucked, but at least it wasn't gray cinderblocks The sun was setting but the sight left him unmoved - he couldn't see what Johnny had been talking about. Just some stupid colors, big deal. He thought for a moment that maybe he was colorblind, maybe there was just something he was missing.

All he saw was the sky getting dark, which to him was a good thing. Nighttime was when he thrived; he loved the darkness, loved the danger. He hated the daylight; it revealed things and made it harder to hide, harder to pretend. At night, he could imagine he was back in New York, the pulse of the big city beneath his feet.

Even in the fading light he could see his life in Tulsa for what it was, and right now all he saw was dirt with a few sad patches of brown grass. Everything was surrounded by a tall, chain link fence topped-off with a wicked looking coil of barbed wire. He'd never really thought about just how depressing it all really was - how cut off from the world he was in here.

"Yeah, well ya ain't got much choice in the matter seein' as how you're still a guest of the state for 60 more days," the guard said, interrupting his thoughts.

"58 days," Dally corrected under his breath. He heard the door close and he could sense a presence behind him, but he still didn't turn around. He wasn't in the mood for this right now. Two hours of peace and quiet weren't enough.

That peace was shattered by a pathetic whimper that sounded behind him. "Shit," Dally muttered. Grounding out the cigarette on the windowsill, he turned around.

His new roommate was standing in the corner, clutching his meager belongings while tears ran unchecked down his chubby cheeks. "Shit," Dally said again. "I don't need this right now."

He sat down on his bunk and shook his head. The kid didn't move. He just stood there, shaking and crying.

"Well, are ya just gonna stand there all goddamn night? You're creepin' me out, kid." Dally's annoyance was quickly turning to anger as the boy didn't respond and his sobbing grew louder.

"Winston, what the hell is that noise?" a disembodied voice sounded from the down the hall. It sounded like Shepard, but he wasn't sure.

"None of your fucking business is what that is," Dally hollered.

He looked at the kid, his eyes narrowing. "You quit that shit now or I'm gonna kill you myself." He nodded toward the door and the rows of cells beyond it. "Those guys'll eat you alive if you show 'em you're weak."

The kid wiped feebly at his tears, attempting to dry them on his sleeve. He gulped down his sobs, trying to make them stop. Dally rolled his eyes.

"My name is, um, George," the boy said, his voice shaking right along with his chubby frame.

Dally's response was a dismissive shrug. He didn't care what this kid's name was, all that mattered was that he stayed out of his way and left him alone. George apparently didn't get the message and kept talking.

"I'm here, uh, because I, uh, accidentally set my house on fire." He winced as he said it, either embarrassed about the fire or embarrassed that he felt the need to lie about it. "Wh -- what are you, uh, in here for?"

Dally smirked but his eyes remained cold. "I _accidentally_ robbed a store with a gun. Then the fuzz _accidentally _shot me and I _accidentally _wound up in this shit-hole for six months."

"Oh," was George's response.

"Yeah," Dally said, "ain't life a bitch?"

George continued to stand, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to another.

"What happens now?" his voice sounded so small, almost like a whisper.

"Well, _Georgie_," Dally practically sneered, "you missed dinner, so pretty much all there is to do is sleep or stare at the wall. It's up to you."

"Wh -- what are you gonna do?"

"Seeing as how it's been a tiring day of doing nothin', I'm goin' to sleep."

Dally actually hadn't been planning on going to sleep, but he wanted away from this kid. Even though he couldn't stand him, he and Tony would usually play some poker or something for a couple of hours before they called "lights out". It seemed like all there was to do in jail was kill time.

"Top bunk's yours," he added as he stretched out on the lumpy mattress, effectively ending their conversation.

The boy awkwardly pulled himself up into his new bed. The springs above Dally dipped and groaned as George tried to get comfortable. Finally he settled and, despite a few sniffles, the cell grew quiet.

Dally closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep. He had finally convinced his mind that he was tired when he heard it. It started with a muffled sob and soon devolved into a constant whimpering. The kid was obviously trying to keep it quiet, trying to hide the fact that he was bawling like a baby, but Dally couldn't _not _hear it. He tried to block it out, but it seemed to amplify the more he tried to ignore it.

Dally withstood it for two nights before he finally broke. The sound was burrowing into his brain, taking root and driving him crazy. This kid was wretched, an embarrassment. He had to fight the urge to hit him. He spent those sleepless nights imagining the demise of George - plotting it and planning it.

He _really_ needed to fucking hit something.

* * *

Darkness. Emptiness. Silence.

At first it seemed like the perfect solution - get himself thrown into solitary confinement to escape his cell and his sad sack roommate.

He put his plan into motion during dinner. Some guy was walking down the aisle, minding his own business. Dally had no idea what the guys name was - he certainly had no beef with him, but he was an easy target. As the guy walked by his table, Dally stuck his foot out, tripping him and sending him sprawling onto the cement floor.

The harsh sound of clanging silverware and shattering china echoed off the cinderblock walls. A hush fell over the crowd of inmates as the toppled prisoner sat there, stunned. Every single guy in the cafeteria froze, waiting in anticipation to see what would happen next.

Dally could sense the wheels turning in the guy's mind, trying to figure out how in the hell he'd wound up on the floor. He swore he actually heard a "click" when the guy figured it out. He raised his head slowly, his beady little eyes meeting Dally's. Dally felt his blood start to hum, like before a rumble. He drew his hands into fists, prepared to strike.

Then all hell broke lose.

Dally got the first punch in. After that, it was all a blur - a manic, wonderful, violent blur. Fists were flying, along with dinner trays, plates, glasses, forks, and butter knives. Pretty much anything anyone could get their hands on.

Dally suffered a few well-placed hits from some unknown opponents. Apparently, getting hit in ribs that had recently healed from a gunshot wound hurt like hell. A cut above his eyebrow was bleeding into his eyes, obscuring his vision but he didn't care. His knuckles were swollen and it felt like he might have broken a bone in his hand, but he was laughing like a madman, thriving on the mayhem.

The guards soon swarmed in. It took three of them to pull Dally to the ground. One of them put his knee in the middle of Dally's back, roughly pulling his arms behind him to place his wrists in handcuffs. Dally didn't stop grinning for a second.

After a quick stop in the prison infirmary to stitch up his brow, check his hand to rule out broken bones, and tape up his ribs, he was unceremoniously dumped in here … Solitary Confinement.

"Five days," the guard had sneered. His sneer turned to a look of confusion when Dally thanked him in what could only be described as a heartfelt manner.

His plan worked.

Day one - he got the best night's sleep he'd had since Ponyboy and Johnny had shown up on Buck's doorstep, desperate for help.

Day two - he spent smoking cigarettes and thinking about his plans with Shepard once he was released.

Day three - he smoked some more and thought some more, but soon found he was running out of things to think about and he was getting a little sick of cigarettes.

It was on the fourth day that he was beginning to question his plan.

* * *

Somehow, he had managed not to think about the gang. Not much, anyway. But on day four, he couldn't seem to shake them.

They were in the cell with him.

Darry was sitting on the only chair in the room, reading the paper. Soda and Steve were leaning against the wall, talking. Two-Bit was bugging Pony, who was sitting in the corner trying to read a book. They seemed so real; like he could have a conversation with them if he wanted to - which he most certainly did not.

And Johnny … Johnny was sitting in a wheelchair directly in front of him, staring - his dark eyes huge and sad. "Stay gold, Dally," he suddenly said and Dally almost toppled off bed.

Dally closed his eyes, willing the images gone from the room. He opened them and he was alone once again.

"Goddamn it," he said angrily as he stood and began pacing. "What the hell was that?" he asked the emptiness. The emptiness didn't answer.

He reached into a pocket on his pants to pull out a cigarette when a folded piece of paper fell on the floor. Johnny's letter. Dally stared at it, not wanting to pick it up. For some reason he felt compelled to put it in his pocket everyday - he didn't know why.

He laughed without humor, the sound echoing down the hall, bouncing off the cold walls. "This is nuts. Just a stupid piece of paper," he said out loud as he bent down and picked it up.

Sitting on the cot, he opened the letter but didn't read it. He thought of Johnny. His trial had been a couple a days ago and he had no idea what the outcome had been. Was Johnny like George? Stuck in a cell with some hard-ass greaser, scared out of his mind?

"What the hell do I care?" Dally asked the silence.

Setting the letter aside, he stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit a match. He stopped for a second, match in hand, and picked up the letter again. He held the corner to the flame, thinking that destroying it would clear his mind; prove he was still the same Dallas Winston who didn't care about anyone but himself.

He couldn't do it. The match burnt down, scorching his fingers. The letter remained intact, unharmed - mocking him, telling him he was weak.

"Fuck this," Dally said as he crumbled the paper in his fist and tossed it carelessly into the corner of the cell.

* * *

On the fifth and final day, Dally had a visitor. It wasn't the usual guard who escorted him to the showers in the morning, or the guy who brought him his three square meals a day. This visitor was a surprise to Dally. It was Dr. Brown.

"Wow, Doc, you makin' house calls now?" Dally asked as he loped over to the barred door. "I'm honored."

"Don't flatter yourself, Dallas. I like to check on the prisoners in solitary, especially the ones I'm surprised to find there in the first place." Dr. Brown stepped aside as a guard unlocked the door, allowing him to enter the cell.

Dally sat on the cot, leaning back against the wall, looking bored. Dr. Brown took a seat in the uncomfortable wooden chair.

"Surprised to find me here?" Dally asked in a sarcastic tone, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "And you call yourself a shrink."

"Actually, _you_ call me a shrink. _I_ call myself a psychologist."

Dally laughed, "Yeah, a shrink."

"As I was saying," the doctor said, trying to regain control of the conversation, "I am surprised to find you placed in solitary confinement. I checked your file --"

Dally groaned. "What do ya do, Doc, sleep with that thing under your pillow? You gotta get yourself some hobbies or maybe you just gotta get laid. How are things with the wife? 'Cause I know this one broad, man, and if you want - I can give her a call. She'll take your mind off of just about anything, and she don't even charge that much."

Dr. Brown ignored him. "Your file said that you don't usually act up when you're incarcerated. In fact, last time you were released early because of good behavior." The doc gave a small chuckle when he said that.

"What's so funny?" Dally asked.

"Oh, I just never thought I'd see the day that the words _Good Behavior _and _Dallas Winston _would be on the same page. Quite the oxymoron there."

"Who the hell you callin' a moron, you son of a --"

Dr. Brown laughed again, cutting off Dally and his insult. Dally didn't see what was so funny.

"Why did you start the fight, Dallas?" Dr. Brown asked, leaning forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees.

Dally tilted his head back, making like he was studying something on the ceiling. He shrugged. "Don't know. Just felt like it, I guess. Guy's face was pissin' me off."

"According him, he doesn't even know who you are."

"Sometimes you just gotta blow off some steam, ya know? No big deal."

"You're lucky the judge didn't add more time to your sentence."

Dally grinned. "That's me, Doc, lucky."

"What are your plans once you get out of here? Only 60 more days left."

"50 days," Dally corrected. "And to answer your question - I don't know what I'm gonna do after I get out of here. But I'm sure you've got loads of suggestions, so bring it on, Doc."

"We both know I'd just be wasting my time and yours. You don't seem to care about bettering your life."

"Now you're catching on. I knew these sessions would straighten you out," Dally said with exaggerated seriousness. "I'll send you the bill."

A guard stepped up to the door, signaling the end of the impromptu session. Dr. Brown nodded toward the guard. "He's here to escort you back to your cell."

Dally quickly gathered the few meager personal belongings he had with him and headed for the door. Dr. Brown stopped him before he could leave.

"In case you were wondering, you got a letter from Ponyboy the other day," the doctor said and Dally kept his face blank. So what if he got a letter from the kid?

"I thought you might like to know that Johnny Cade was found not guilty."

Dally shrugged before stepping through the cell door. He turned to look back at the doctor.

"Good for him, but I don't give a shit one way or the other, " Dally said coldly.

At first, the doc didn't answer him. He just looked at him, studied him. Then a knowing smile spread across his face.

"You're a lousy liar, kid."

_

* * *

_

_A/N - Well, I hadn't written about Dally for a while. I know - not much happening in prison, but I couldn't let another chapter go by without seeing what he was up to, lol. Don't worry, the next time he shows up, he'll be released and free to cause trouble :-)_

_Thanks for all the reviews. Hope everyone enjoys this chapter._


	22. Chapter 22

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 22**

The hardware store was quiet; the aisles almost empty. Johnny and Tom were staring blankly at the wall of paint colors. Neither one of them wanted to admit to the other that they had no idea what their next step should be. Johnny had a feeling that Tom knew just about as much about interior decorating as he did - which was absolutely nothing.

Mary had shooed the two of them out of the house as soon as breakfast was finished, claiming she needed some peace and quiet to get some cleaning done. Johnny had no idea what she was talking about. He could probably count on one hand the total number of words he'd spoken in that house since he'd moved in yesterday.

Once Sarah left to go to her own apartment, the trio had run out of things to talk about. It wasn't in Johnny to start a conversation with people he barely knew - hell, he had trouble starting them with people he'd known all his life. Tom and Mary tried to coax information out of him, but all he could come up with were one word answers. He found himself growing more and more embarrassed and frustrated as the day dragged on.

Eventually, he claimed he was tired and spent the rest of the night holed up in the pink palace, reading and trying to sleep. He didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings, but he wasn't sure how to act around the Martins.

That awkwardness had not disappeared by the next morning and he was pretty sure Tom and Mary felt it, too. That was probably why Mary had practically pushed him and Tom out the door. Maybe she was hoping for some male bonding, or something.

The silence of the hardware store was broken by an overly enthusiastic, chipper voice that sounded behind them, startling them both.

"You gentlemen look like you could use some help." The salesgirl had a perky personality and a wide smile that made her look like someone from a toothpaste commercial.

"Sure," Tom said, his rough voice a sharp contrast to the girl's singsong approach to speaking.

"Well, what are you looking for today?"

"Paint," Tom answered gruffly. The girl nodded slightly and looked at the pair expectantly, as though she was waiting for more information.

"Okay," she said slowly, smile still firmly in place but it was beginning to look a little forced. "Let's start with color, shall we? What color were you interested in?"

Tom and Johnny exchanged a glance and they both shrugged at the same time.

"Well, kid, it's your room," Tom said, passing the decision off to Johnny who was still staring at the selection of paint chips. He had no idea where to begin. Anything but pink seemed fine to him.

He remained mute and the salesgirl's smile began to droop at the corners and it looked like she was gritting her teeth.

"How about a favorite color, then." She was looking at Johnny now and he felt his face grow hot. This was his first trip out in public since being released from the hospital and he wasn't used to strangers looking at him. Some scars on his neck and arms were visible and, combined with the wheelchair, he felt incredibly self-conscious.

"Do you have a favorite color?" she repeated the question and Johnny realized he hadn't answered her.

"Um …" he began before realizing he had never really given it any thought before. His first impulse was to say black - that would make a cheerful room, he thought to himself, dismissing it immediately. "Blue, I guess," he said hesitantly.

"Great," she clapped her hands together, like she was cheering on a team to victory. "What shade of blue would you like?"

"Shade?" Johnny and Tom asked together and Johnny swore he heard the salesgirl sigh.

* * *

Ten minutes and several probing questions later, the color was chosen and the paint was being mixed. Johnny wheeled away from Tom to do a little exploring and to escape the obnoxious sound of the machine that shook the paint can to mix the pigments. He found the automotive section and was looking at the cool accessories when he heard two women talking in the next aisle. At first he felt rude eavesdropping until he heard them mention the Martins. 

"God bless Mary. I don't know how she let her daughter talk her into it. After everything that happened last year, now they have to live with a hoodlum under their roof?" Johnny sucked in a shocked breath.

"Kim, that's really not fair. Wasn't the boy found not guilty?" The other woman was talking quieter than the first, like maybe she realized she might be overheard. _Kim_, however, didn't seem to care and he would have been able to hear every word she said even if he wasn't trying to listen.

"Guilty. Not guilty. Does it really matter? He still killed another kid. How would you like to have that living down the street from you?"

Hearing her say it out loud, Johnny realized that was what frightened him the most. It wasn't people looking at him and pitying him because of the wheelchair and the scars - that bugged him but he could live with it. No, it was people looking at him and seeing a murderer. He wondered if he was going to be reminded of it every day of his life.

"Kim, he's in a wheelchair. I remember reading about a couple of the poorer boys rescuing some school kids. I'm pretty sure he was one of them. It's not like he's going to break-in and murder you in your sleep."

"Well, they travel in packs, you know. Filthy greasers. Thieves and criminals - every last one of them." Johnny felt his hands shake, he couldn't believe what that woman was saying. Well, maybe he could believe it. He'd heard it all his life, he just thought that things would maybe be different now.

Tom appeared at the end of the aisle, his arms weighed down with painting accessories.

"There you are, kid. Ready to go?" Johnny nodded without speaking and slowly moved his chair down the aisle. As he neared Tom he saw the older man's brow wrinkle in concern.

"You okay, Johnny?" he asked, his voice low and kind.

Johnny smiled weakly, trying to deflect the concern. "Yeah, I'm fine." He tried not to wince at how far from fine his voice sounded. Tom didn't look convinced, but he didn't press the issue.

* * *

The ride home was silent and Tom was beginning to wonder if Johnny actually talked in complete sentences. He had yet to hear one. 

The kid was an odd one, and Tom was surprised to realize that he was already feeling protective toward him. It wasn't just the because of the injuries from the fire, they were a part of it. No, it was the look in his eyes, like he was afraid to trust anyone.

Sarah had told him and Mary about Johnny's parents, at least as much as she knew. She said Johnny hadn't told her much - big shock there - so most of it she'd gathered from his friends. Well, his parents sounded like real pieces of work, alright. It was times like this that he wished he was still a cop and that he still carried a sidearm.

Johnny was staring out the window, but Tom didn't think he was really seeing anything. His mind was elsewhere - something had rattled him back at the hardware store, that much was certain.

Once they got home, Johnny announced he was tired and that he wanted to take a nap. Tom didn't believe him for a second, and caught him before he got into his room.

"Hey, kid - come outside and keep me company," Tom said. He leaned down and whispered conspiratorially, "Mary won't let me smoke in the house and I'm dying for a cigar. I might be able to scrounge up a cigarette or two."

Johnny eyed him uncertainly. He hadn't smoked in months, not since Windrixville. He hadn't really thought much about starting back up again, but those women had really stressed him out and he could really use a smoke.

"Sure," Johnny said with a resigned sigh, "lead the way."

* * *

It was one of those weird days between winter and spring where Mother Nature was trying to figure out what season she wanted it to be. The air was mild, but with a slight bite to it. The sun was out, but the blue of the sky was slightly off - kind of gray, like it could still snow later if it got cold again. 

Tom brought out a beer for himself and a bottle of Pepsi for Johnny. The smoke from Tom's cigar scented the air and Johnny could see why Mary didn't want it in the house. He lit a cigarette and took his first drag in what felt like a year, and was quickly overcome with a fit of coughing.

"Damn," he said, feeling a little nauseous, "I think I'm gonna have to stay a non-smoker."

Tom laughed and Johnny found himself smiling as he ground out the cigarette on the porch railing. Tom's laugh soon faded and his face got that concerned look on it that he'd had back at the store.

"So, what was bugging you back at the store?" Tom asked, trying to keep his voice light. He didn't want to scare Johnny, but he wanted him to know it was okay to talk to him. It was obvious he carried a lot of stuff around inside him - everyone needed someone to talk to, to share the burden with.

Johnny shrugged, "Nothing." Tom wasn't surprised. He knew Johnny's answer before he said it. He could have imitated it exactly, right down to the nonchalant swig of soda Johnny took at the end to mask the fact he was uncomfortable.

Tom leaned forward in his chair and gave him a look that clearly said "Bullshit".

Johnny absentmindedly fidgeted with the Pepsi bottle, flicking at the raised paint with a fingernail. He didn't want to meet Tom's gaze. Part of him wanted to tell him what he'd heard, but the other part didn't. He was afraid - he didn't want to find out that Tom and Mary agreed with what that woman said. That Sarah had somehow forced them into being his foster parents. Sometimes it was just better to remain ignorant - no matter what the answer was.

Tom didn't say or do anything for several minutes - just looked at him, waiting for him to finally crack and spill the beans, or whatever cops called it. All that was missing was a bright light shining in his face, blinding him to his surroundings.

"Geez, man, I give up," Johnny finally announced, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

Tom sat back in surprise and laughed. "Sorry, kid. I guess I got a little intense there."

"A little?" Johnny said quietly, but there was an edge of sarcasm there that wasn't lost on Tom. He was glad to hear it.

"Fine, I'll tell you what you wanna know," Johnny said. He looked down at the bottle in his hands, finding that easier to focus on than looking directly at Tom.

"I overheard two ladies talking at the store." His voice was unsteady and he stopped to take a breath. When he didn't start back up again, Tom found he had to prompt him to continue.

"And …?"

"And they were a talking about me … about me living with you guys."

"Oh," Tom said quietly. "I take it that what they had to say wasn't very nice?"

Johnny shook his head sadly. "No. They said I was a murderer and that my friends are criminals." Johnny looked up at Tom, his eyes red from unshed tears but there was a determined glint in them that surprised Tom. "Is that what you guys think? Did Sarah force you guys to take me in 'cause no one else would take in a murdering greaser?"

"Mary and I don't think that, not at all." Tom spoke calmly and evenly - careful not to spook Johnny. He reached out to put a hand on Johnny's arm, but he flinched away from the touch. Tom's breath caught at the kid's reaction - again he found himself wishing he had Johnny's father in front of him to teach him a lesson or two about raising kids. He didn't acknowledge Johnny's reaction, though. He figured it was something they would have to deal with later.

"I was a cop for a long time," he continued. "I've seen a lot of really bad things. A buddy of mine showed me the file on what happened in the park. Johnny, I would have done the same thing you did."

"Really?" Johnny asked with some apprehension.

"Really," Tom assured him with a smile. "Hey, you don't by any chance catch who those two women were, did you?"

Johnny thought for a second. "The only name I heard was Kim. From what she said, I think she lives down the street."

Tom finished his cigar and dropped it into his empty beer bottle. He shook his head and laughed. "Yeah, she's always been a bit of a bitch."


	23. Chapter 23

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 23**

Sarah gingerly opened the front door and peeked her head around the corner. Her mother was sitting on the couch in the family room, engrossed in an issue of Better Homes and Gardens. It looked like she was alone, but Sarah wasn't sure.

"Mom," Sarah said in a loud whisper. Her mother didn't look up. Apparently it was a really good article. "Psst, Mom." Still no response, Sarah rolled her eyes and muttered, "A bomb could go off and she wouldn't notice."

A deep, male chuckle sounded behind her and Sarah looked back at her companions. Darry, Soda, and Steve were all waiting with varying degrees of patience for her to get them into the house. Thing was, she needed to make sure Johnny wasn't around or the surprise would be ruined. To most guys things like that didn't matter; careful planning and preparation were not of the utmost importance to them. They were like bulls in a china shop, and one particular bull had reached the end of his rope.

"Here," Steve said with a determined look as he eased a reluctant Sarah out of the way, "let me try or we'll be stuck out here all damn day."

He leaned into the opening. "Hey, Mrs. Martin," he said loudly. Startled, Mary jumped and threw the magazine up in the air.

"Oh, good God!" she exclaimed, gasping for air as she stared wide-eyed at the stranger in the doorway. "Who are you?"

"I --" Sarah elbowed Steve out of the way before he had a chance to explain.

"Hi, Mom. Sorry we scared you." She glared at Steve as she squeezed past him, a bag of groceries in her arms.

"You didn't scare me, sweetie - merely startled me, that's all." Sarah made her way over to the couch and leaned down to give her mother a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Is the coast clear?" Sarah asked softly, realizing how silly the question was since Steve practically announced their arrival at the top of his lungs.

Mary looked behind her at the closed bedroom door. "So far. They've been in there for about an hour. I think they've finally torn down the wallpaper. He doesn't suspect a thing."

"Well, it helps that we didn't tell Two-Bit," Soda explained as he made his way into the house carrying a cake box, followed by Darry. "He actually thinks he's here just to help paint Johnny's room. It only took us about ten or twelve years to figure out that if you want somethin' to stay secret, you best not tell it to Two-Bit Mathews."

Mary looked confused. "Two-Bit?"

"Keith, Mom." Sarah explained.

Her mom was thoughtful for a moment. "You know, I think Two-Bit suits him better than Keith."

"He'll be thrilled to hear that," Darry supplied dryly. "Even his mom calls him Two-Bit."

Mary stood up and smoothed her sweater over her hips, a warm smile on her face. "So, Sarah, are you going to introduce me to your friends?"

"Of course --" Sarah began, but a loud crash from the bedroom cut her off, followed by loud, slightly hysterical laughter. The door opened and Johnny made his way into the family room in his wheelchair, followed by a crestfallen Ponyboy, a cackling Two-Bit, and Tom - who was shaking his head, either in amusement or bewilderment.

"Ah, man, Two-Bit - look at what you did," Johnny groused as he fussed with his hair. Sarah covered her mouth to keep from laughing when she realized he was splattered with blue paint, most of it in his hair. Upon closer inspection, she could see that Ponyboy had also been liberally doused with the stuff, too.

"Well, you said I couldn't catch the paint brush if I flipped it in the air four times - and, well, I could," Two-Bit said triumphantly.

"No, I said I didn't _care_ if you could or not. And what idiot flips a paint brush when it's full of paint?" Johnny complained.

"It's just paint, it'll wash out," was all Ponyboy had to offer to the conversation as he looked down at his shirt and jeans with a worried look on his face. "It _will_ wash out, right? Darry'll kill me if it doesn't."

As if on cue, Darry loudly cleared his throat. All three boys looked over at the same time, finally noticing the group gathered near the front door. Darry, Soda, and Steve were awkwardly standing there, looking guilty - like they'd been caught red-handed sneaking into the cookie jar.

"Surprise?" Soda announced with a sheepish grin.

* * *

At first, Johnny didn't know how to react or what was going on. 

"Surprise?" both he and Two-Bit said at the same time.

"Yeah, Happy Birthday, kiddo," Darry said warmly with a smile.

He'd completely forgotten it was his birthday. So much had been going on - moving in, getting settled, therapy, schoolwork - it was a little overwhelming and he barely knew what day of the week it was, let alone what month.

"Y'all didn't have to go to --" he started to say, but Steve cut him off.

"Don't say it, Johnny," he said brusquely.

"Don't say what?"

"Don't say that we shouldn't have gone to the trouble. If anyone deserves a little fun and a party, it's you. Ya got that?" Johnny nodded mutely, a little afraid of Steve's reaction if he tried to argue with him.

His birthday was rarely acknowledged in his house when he was growing up. One year he hadn't even noticed he was a year older until he was writing the date on a test in school and it dawned on him that he had turned twelve two days earlier. He felt especially stupid that day.

A couple of times, Mrs. Curtis baked him a cake and made him stay for dinner on his birthday. She didn't make a huge fuss about it - he figured she knew that would embarrass him more than if nobody realized it was his birthday. No, he reckoned she just wanted him to know that someone noticed, that someone cared. She was always great about stuff like that.

He looked around at everyone gathered in the room and felt the same warmth and caring he'd always felt around Pony's mom. He smiled tentatively and said, "Okay, but can I wash the paint out of my hair first?"

* * *

Luck was on their side today; with March you could never be sure what type of weather you were going to wake up to. On this particular day, it was beautiful out - warm and sunny. The make-shift party was set up outside on the deck. It started out quietly, both groups getting a feel for each other, but easy conversation and laughter soon replaced the silence. 

Once outside, Tom swiftly moved into action - declaring the grill his base of operations. He asked for a second in command. Soda started to volunteer, but Darry quickly stepped up for the position. Soda's cooking was always an exercise in chance and he wasn't sure if the Martins were quite ready for blue mashed potatoes, or worse.

Helping Tom with the barbeque also gave Darry a chance to get to know the guy. He'd promised Pony that he'd look out for Johnny and he stood by that promise. He'd asked Johnny how things were going and wasn't surprised when he'd received a half-hearted "fine" as an answer. That was pretty much Johnny's stock answer for everything unless you really bugged him for specific details.

Tom handed Darry a package of hot dogs to open as he started placing the already formed hamburgers on the hot grill. "So, you're Darry, right?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Darry answered, his tone formal. He couldn't help it, this guy screamed _cop, _and although Darry certainly never had the trouble with cops that Two-Bit or Dally had, he still felt uneasy around one.

"Please, call me Tom. When someone calls me Sir, I'm waiting for them to offer up a desperate plea on why I shouldn't arrest them." Tom laughed, but Darry remained silent, unsure of how to respond.

"Sorry," Tom said, realizing Darry was uncomfortable. "Cop humor."

"Yeah, we don't get a lot of that in our neighborhood," Two-Bit chimed in from the picnic table.

"So how are things going with Johnny?" Darry asked discreetly. Johnny was engrossed in a conversation with Soda and Steve and Darry thought it would be a good time to get some details from Tom.

"Good," was all Tom said at first. _Well, at least he didn't say 'fine',_ was the first thing that popped in Darry's head, but then Tom started to elaborate.

"He's a real good kid. He's had a tough life."

"Yeah, he has," Darry said, looking over at his brothers and their friends. A year ago, Johnny would have been sitting a little off to the side, away from the group - maybe talking to Ponyboy, but more than likely not saying anything, just staring silently at the ground. Today, Johnny was smiling and laughing and talking - right in the thick of things.

"In my old line of work, you live a life like he has, with those parents - you usually end up on the opposite end of my gun, in the back of a police cruiser, eventually locked up for life. How he managed not to is beyond me."

Darry didn't have an answer for him. He immediately thought of Dally. Nobody had heard from him since he got put away, but Darry was certain nothing had changed. He couldn't imagine Dallas Winston becoming anything other than an older, angrier version of who he was now. He didn't know what made a person become a hood, any more than he knew what kept someone from becoming one.

"Johnny's a lot stronger than he thinks," Darry said, a little surprised at his own observation.

"Or than most people give him credit for," Tom added.

* * *

After dinner, Two-Bit convinced Mary to open the screen door and turn on the radio, so they could listen to some music outside. Mary offered to put on some records. "I've got Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin," she said, a twinkle in her eyes, knowing the boys were going to be less than enthusiastic. 

They all groaned in unison. "Ugh, no offense Mare - but we need something with some rhythm, something that rocks," Two-Bit said as he jumped up, thrust out his hip and made an exaggerated move as though jamming on an invisible guitar.

"Yeah, like The Beatles," Sarah added with a giggle. She had to duck the potato chip that came flying at her head. She was pretty sure it came from Soda. Two-Bit clasped his hand to his chest and fell to the ground as though Sarah had shot him through the heart.

"Anyone but The Beatles," he groaned in mock agony.

"Oh, Two-Bit, you know you love them - _yeah, yeah, yeah_," Soda said with a grin, adding a nasally whine to the last part.

"How about those Ocean Boys?" Tom offered.

"Beach Boys, Dad." Sarah sighed and shook her head.

"How about those Beach Boys?" Tom asked again.

"Yeah, 'cause there's tons of surfing in Tulsa," Ponyboy said.

"You know it," Johnny added with a lopsided grin.

Sarah chewed on her bottom lip, determined to find a name they could agree on. "Simon and Garfunkel?"

Steve dropped his head forward, closed his eyes and let out a loud snore.

"Bob Dylan?"

"Completely incoherent," Darry said - he was sitting on the opposite side of the table, looking right at her and Sarah felt her face grow hot.

"He is not," she shot back, clearly enjoying herself.

"I dare you to tell me every single line of one of his songs," he said, leaning forward on the bench.

"Not a problem," she said with a shrug, crossing her arms.

"Without looking at the liner notes," he amended his challenge.

"Not. A. Problem," she repeated slowly.

Soda was sitting next to Darry, mesmerized by their exchange. He was looking back and forth between his brother and Sarah as each spoke, like a cat watching a ping-pong game from the sidelines. They stared at each other for several seconds, unblinking - like the first person to look away would lose or something. Soda had never seen Darry act this way with anyone before, especially a woman, and he was getting a big kick out of it.

Mary loudly cleared her throat. "I think we'll just leave it on the radio for now."

Mary started clearing the plates and Sarah disappeared into the kitchen. She soon emerged with a chocolate cake covered in blazing candles. Everyone quickly joined in a rousing rendition of _Happy Birthday, _with Two-Bit loudly pounding out the beat on the wooden table. Johnny was a little embarrassed by all the attention and he quickly blew out the candles so that the spotlight could be taken off him.

The cake was cut up and served to everyone. Johnny knew the minute he took a bite that Sodapop was the Curtis brother who had made it. The sweetness was overpowering, but he was used to it - all three of the Martins, however, looked a little stunned at first.

"Soda baked the cake this morning," Ponyboy explained, already reaching for a second slice.

"Yeah, I figured," Johnny grinned.

Mary looked at Soda, her piece was untouched except for the first bite. "It's delicious, dear," she said kindly. Johnny heard Tom let out what sounded like a muffled laugh and Mary glared at her husband. She returned her attention to Sodapop. "You'll have to give me the recipe."

"Sure thing, Mrs. M. Thing is, I'm not really sure what the recipe is," Soda said. "I mean, I have the original recipe my mom always used. But I like to improvise."

"You don't say?" Tom said dryly. He jumped slightly, like someone had kicked him under the table. Shaking her head at her dad, Sarah got up and went inside, returning with a bunch of presents. She handed them out to the guys so that they could personally give them to Johnny.

Tom and Mary gave him some clothes - a couple of t-shirts, a pair of jeans, a sweater and some flannel shirts. They were really nice, nicer than any of his old clothes. The sweater, however, he was a little skeptical about. It looked … itchy, and kind of like something a Soc would wear.

Next up was Sarah's gift and she watched in anticipation as he opened it. He raised his eyebrows at the flowered wrapping paper.

"Sorry," she laughed. "That was all I could find in my apartment."

Inside the paper sat a framed picture of the gang. He recognized it from the photo album he and Pony looked through all the time when they got bored and nothing was on TV.

"I thought you'd like a little reminder of the guys while you were stuck here with my parents," she said with a grin. "I know it's easy to get lonely, even when there are people around all the time."

"Here ya go, kid," Steve said brusquely, planting a newspaper wrapped box in front of Johnny. "This is from me and Sodapop." Two-Bit cleared his throat. "Oh, and Two-Bit, after he gets a chance to chip in."

The gift was a camera - an expensive looking camera. "Found that at the pawn shop," Steve explained. "Someone had turned it in just the day before."

"Johnny, that's so cool. Maybe you could take a photography class next year at the high school," Pony said, his eyes glowing with enthusiasm. "Me and you could go out for the newspaper or yearbook or …"

"We'll see, Pony," Johnny said, excited about the camera - but not nearly as excited as Ponyboy. "Thanks, guys."

Next, he opened Ponyboy's gift. It was a blank journal and a book of poetry by Robert Frost that had a winter scene on the cover. He lightly ran his fingers over the cover of the book, tracing the name. He didn't say anything at first and Ponyboy grew worried that he'd done something wrong.

"Sorry, man. I thought you'd might like to try his other stuff, since you seemed to really dig that one poem."

"No, it's not that. The book is great. Just brings back some memories, is all. Luckily, they ain't all bad," Johnny explained quietly, sill looking at the book, not at his friend.

"Last, but I hope certainly not least," Darry said while handing Johnny a black box. It had a hinged lid and Johnny opened it carefully, revealing a polished wristwatch nestled inside.

"Pony, Soda and I wanted you to have that. It belonged to our father."

Johnny began to slowly shake his head as he stared at the watch. "Darry, I can't take this. It belongs with you guys."

"It means a lot to us for you to have it. Dad would have wanted it that way," Darry explained. Reaching over, he placed a strong hand on Johnny's arm. A serious expression was on his face and his voice was thick with emotion. "You saved Ponyboy's life. We wouldn't have a family if it wasn't for you."

"Take the watch, Johnnycake. Y'all are makin' Two-Bit tear up over here. You know how sensitive he is," Soda said as he pretended to console Two-Bit who was wiping away non-existent tears.

"Glory, is this a party or some ladies' knitting circle?" Steve grumbled, causing everyone to laugh.

Two-Bit ran into the house and turned up the radio. Sam Cooke was singing about Twisting the Night Away and Two-Bit grabbed Mary's hand and pulled her into an impromptu dance. They were soon joined by Soda and Sarah, who was standing still more than dancing - finding it impossible to keep a straight face while her partner twisted and spun all around her.

Darry was about to stand up, but Johnny grabbed his arm to get his attention.

"Thanks, Darry," he said sincerely.

"You're welcome, kid."

* * *

_O_

_O_

_O_

_O_

_A/N - The views and opinions expressed by the characters in the above chapter do not necessarily represent the views and opinions of the author. I.e. - I love Simon and Garfunkel, The Beatles, and Bob Dylan. The Beach Boys ... eh._

_Thanks again for all the reviews. _


	24. Chapter 24

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 24**

Tucking the envelope containing his personal belongings beneath his arm, he slid on his dark sunglasses despite the cloudy skies. Freedom somehow made the sky seem brighter and he figured squinting would ruin the image he had playing in his head of the badass ex-con slowly emerging from the dark, dank prison.

This wasn't the first time he'd made such an exit, and part of him supposed it wouldn't be the last. Regardless, he was glad to be out of there. Usually, jail didn't bug him. He liked to brag about his record and most of the time that bragging was genuine. Jail was no big deal; a byproduct of the life he enjoyed living. This time felt different, though - it got under his skin somehow and that unnerved him.

"Dallas," a familiar voice sounded behind him and he stopped in his tracks - halting like an unsuspecting fish caught on a fisherman's hook, jolted out of its reverie by a sharp tug on the line.

He wasn't going to take the bait.

"I'm free, Doc. Served my time and now I don't gotta listen to your crap anymore," he said without turning around, his eyes scanning the deserted road for his ride.

"I didn't realize you'd ever started listening to my _crap_," Dr. Brown said with a chuckle. Dally sensed him walking up behind him, just outside the chain link fence. Dally didn't respond, but the doctor kept talking. "Maybe one day, you'll remember what I said."

"Whatever you say, Doc. If you ask me, I think you've been writing yourself a few of those psychological prescriptions - dippin' into the pharmaceuticals." Dally finally turned and gave a sly wink. "Don't worry, man. I won't say nothin'. Maybe you can hook me up later."

Dr. Brown laughed again and Dally wasn't surprised. The Doc wasn't going to take Dally's bait, any more than Dally was going to take his.

A car rumbled across the street and came to a screeching halt. Dally looked over his shoulder - his ride had arrived. It was Tim Shepard in a large, green station wagon that Dally had never seen before. Chances were, Tim hadn't seen it before that afternoon, either.

Dally didn't leave immediately and Tim laid on the horn, filling the afternoon with a shrill siren - it was a horrendous sound. How Shepard managed to find a car with a horn that sounded completely annoyed, impatient, and pissed-off all at the same time was beyond him. The car may look ridiculous, but the horn matched the guy perfectly.

"Well, it's been real … therapeutic, Doc, but I've gotta be on my way." Dr. Brown reached out and grabbed his arm before he could walk away. Both he and Dally slowly looked down at his hand at the same time and the doctor let go immediately. He was lucky Dally didn't deck him; he'd put guys in the hospital for less.

Dr. Brown reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a business card, which he held out for Dallas to take. Dally rolled his eyes behind his dark glasses as he grabbed the card.

"I want you to take that and call me if you ever need anything," the doctor said sincerely.

Dally gave a cynical laugh as he looked at the information printed on the stiff paper. It had the address for the Doc's office and his phone number. Dally turned the card over and noticed that there was handwriting on the back. It was another address and another phone number.

"Those are for my home," Dr. Brown explained. "I mean it when I say you can call me anytime."

"That's sweet and all," Dally said, his voice cold, "but you don't give a guy like me your home address. You do that and one day you'll come home to an empty house."

Dally held the card up and slowly tore it into small pieces. "Doc, you need a serious dose of reality. You ain't gonna save me … I don't need savin'. Take your bleedin' heart elsewhere and find someone who gives a shit." He tossed the pieces on the ground at the doctor's feet and walked away.

"Get a move on, Winston. My grandma moves faster than you do," Tim yelled from the car, his voice laced with irritation.

"Then how were you able to get this tuff car away from her? Did ya have to shoot her or something?" Dally retorted, slowing down his pace to aggravate Tim.

"Fuck you, Dally," Tim said with a casual flip of the bird. "Someone placed an order for a metallic green Vista Cruiser. I'm simply fulfilling a request."

"_Someone _who has awful taste, or is blind, or both. What if someone I know sees me in this thing?" Dally joked, enjoying the growing frustration that furrowed Tim's brow.

Once Dally was inside the car, Tim pulled away from the curb. "So who the hell was that guy, Winston?"

"Just a loser who actually believes in the system and thinks I need to be redeemed or saved - some pathetic nonsense like that." Dally pulled his wallet out of the manila envelope and opened it to put in the cash they gave him before leaving. He earned fifty cents a day while locked up, and it wasn't lost on him that it was actually more than he legitimately made while on the outside. That amount pretty much equaled zero.

Tucked inside the worn leather was a card identical to the one he'd shredded moments earlier. He let out a surprised laugh. _Fucking Doc, _he thought in admiration. He was going to tear this one up, too, but changed his mind at the last minute. He'd let the guy win this battle; it wasn't like he was ever going to call him, anyway.

"So where do you want me to drop you off? I can take you to see that quiet kid, Cade. Heard from Curly that he got himself some foster parents or somethin'. He got the address from the youngest Curtis kid," Tim explained, his eyes on the road.

"Sure, whatever," Dally said nonchalantly, but his stomach suddenly felt unsettled. It was a sensation he couldn't describe, like he was nervous. It was just Johnny - he could see Johnny. Now that he was out of jail, all those weird dreams and flashes would stop. Everything would go back to normal.

* * *

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Dally asked, staring dumfounded at the house Tim had pulled up to. He couldn't imagine Johnny in a house like that. It was big and well-kept, like something out of one of those Frank Capra movies Pony drug him to before Pony caught on that he didn't like to sit still and be quiet during anything, especially long, boring-ass movies. All that it was missing was a white picket fence and a rainbow filling the sky above it.

"Nope," Tim said, double-checking the crumpled piece of paper he was holding. "This is definitely the right address. Not bad, huh? Kid did okay for himself - well, besides that whole crippled and confined to a wheelchair stuff. I'll wait here incase he ain't home."

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Dally repeated like a mantra as he made his way to the front door and rang the doorbell.

The door opened after a minute or two. A big guy filled the doorway and warning bells sounded in Dally's head before he'd even realized he recognized the guy.

"Shit," he said as he took an instinctive step back. The guy in the doorway did the same thing; only his hand went to his hip, as though he was reaching for a gun. Thankfully he didn't have one.

They stared at each other in silence, like a scene from one of those cowboy movies where the two men wait to see who would draw first. It turned out it was going to be the big guy who took the first step.

"Dallas Winston," he said slowly.

"Some guy who's arrested me," Dally mimicked his slow drawl as he narrowed his eyes.

"Tom Martin," the guy supplied. "Not surprised you wouldn't remember. That's a lot of names to remember when it comes to the cops who've arrested you."

Dally hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, trying to look casual and non-plussed. "Seen one, ya seen 'em all," he shrugged.

The shock of finding a cop at the door of the house Tim claimed was Johnny's new home was beginning to wear off. Dally wouldn't be surprised to find that the entire thing was concocted by Shepard as some sort of stupid practical joke.

"Does Johnny Cade live here?" he asked suspiciously, looking Tom straight in the eye. Tom's shoulders sagged slightly, as though he just realized why Dallas Winston would be at his front door.

"Yeah, he does. He's at Ponyboy's until later tonight." Dally turned on his heel without comment.

"Winston," Tom said suddenly, "they did release you, right?"

"What? 'Fraid I escaped?" Dally asked with a laugh.

"The thought did cross my mind. Especially with Tim Shepard sitting in my driveway in what is probably a stolen car," Tom said dryly, and Dally was surprised to hear some humor his voice.

"Nah, it ain't stolen. Belongs to his grandma," Dally explained as he made his way to the idling station wagon.

"Sure it does," Tom called after him before he shut the front door.

Once inside the car, Dally immediately noticed the sly, shit-eating grin that was spread across Tim's face.

"You, asshole. You knew about the cop, didn't you?" he grumbled.

Tim shrugged, "So what if I did? I needed a good laugh today. So, where to?"

"The Curtis's - unless they've been adopted by the fucking President of the United States and nobody told me."

Tim was still grinning. "Nah, I'm pretty sure it was the Queen of England."

* * *

"Johnny, how is it that you have almost all of my money?" Soda asked with a laugh as he tossed his cards face down on the table, opting out of the hand.

At first Johnny didn't answer, he simply raised an eyebrow as he studied the cards he was holding. "Just lucky, I guess," he said with a lopsided grin.

Ponyboy snorted from his chair at the table - his hand already folded in front of him, his pile of money consisting of a handful of pennies and three nickels. "Johnny, tell 'em how much money I owe you from when we were in Windrixville."

Johnny shrugged nonchalantly. "Hundred and fifty bucks."

Two-Bit gave a low whistle. "Geez, Darry you're gonna have to get a third job just to cover Pony's gambling debts."

"Yeah, I'll get right on that, Two-Bit," Darry said from the sink where he was washing the dishes from lunch.

"Looks like we've got a hustler here," Soda added, gently punching Johnny in the arm.

"Or Pony just really sucks at poker," Steve said sarcastically as he threw down one card and impatiently waited for Soda deal him a new one.

Soda looked at Two-Bit and Johnny to see if either one wanted more cards. Johnny nodded slightly and slid two cards across the table. Two-Bit shrugged and passed over four. Steve gave him a disgusted look before dropping ten cents into the pot. The other two followed suit and the betting was done, it was time to lay down their cards.

Steve proudly showed his full house - tens and eights. Two-Bit laid down his hand and to no one's surprise, he had absolutely nothing, just a lone ace. Johnny kept his face blank as he calmly presented his cards, a straight flush - king high. There was a tense pause for a moment while everyone studied the cards, then Two-Bit let out a loud cheer.

"Glory, kid, we should take a road trip to Vegas and clean them out," Two-Bit said as Johnny gathered the pile of coins.

Steve didn't look as thrilled. "You're cheating or something. I ain't figured it out, but it's gotta be something," he said steadily as he pointed an accusing finger at his quiet friend.

Soda slid his chair back, the legs screeching on the old linoleum. "Hey," he said, his voice suddenly low and threatening, the laughter gone.

Ponyboy cleared his throat nervously. "Steve, do you think that maybe, uh … you just really suck at poker?"

Steve looked like he wanted to punch him and everyone held their breath in anticipation. Darry was poised to strike if Steve so much as flinched towards his little brother. Suddenly, a thud sounded on the porch, drawing everyone's attention and deflating the uneasy tension.

A shadow was moving back and forth in front of the window, as though someone was pacing on their porch.

"Who is it?" Pony whispered as though the figure could hear him from clear across the house.

Johnny rolled his chair a couple of feet into family room and squinted to see through the dingy drapes. He looked back at the rest of the guys and smiled.

"It's Dal."

_

* * *

_

_O_

_O_

_O_

_O_

_A/N - Yay, Dally's out of jail, lol. I'm nervous about posting this because this site has been acting so strange lately, but I have no patience._

_Thanks again for all the reviews._


	25. Chapter 25

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 25**

Awkward didn't begin to sum up how Dally was feeling standing outside that familiar screen door - fucking stupid was more like it.

Shepard dropped him off and he bounded up the steps without a thought, same as always. He reached out for the door, no big deal; then suddenly he stopped. It was the stopping that screwed everything up. He had no idea why he hesitated, why his hands started to shake. But suddenly, without thinking, he was taking a step back from the door - like a coward backing out of a fight.

He fisted his hands, wanting to hit something - maybe a brick wall, maybe a tree, maybe a plate glass window - hit something until his knuckles bled and pain replaced this shaky uneasiness that had crept up on him.

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a deep drag. That calmed him somewhat, which pissed him off even more. He shouldn't need calming - he was tough, nothing bothered him, nothing ever got to him. _Liar, _a voice whispered in his head and he ran an unsteady hand through his hair and began to pace, the old planks of the porch creaking with each step.

The door opened and he barely noticed. It was Darry.

"Dallas," he simply stated.

"Darry," Dally replied, his voice flat. He leaned against the railing, trying to appear nonchalant as he blew out a cloud of smoke.

"What are you doing out here?" Darry asked. "It looks like you're casing the place or something. Get in here before one of the neighbors gets the wrong idea and thinks we have something worth stealing."

Dally smiled because Darry would have expected him to. He dropped the cigarette and ground it out with the toe of his boot.

"Sure thing, Darry. Just grabbing a quick smoke," he explained as he brushed past his friend and entered the house.

* * *

"Well, what d'ya know - the prodigal hoodlum returns," Two-Bit announced cheerfully as Dally stepped through the door. 

Everyone was in the family room, looking at him expectantly. He didn't say anything at first, simply nodded - allowing his cool demeanor to do all the talking. They were used to it - it wasn't like he was a Chatty Kathy on his best days - so hopefully no one thought he was acting strangely.

Pony and Soda were lounging on the couch, Two-Bit was on the floor with his back propped up against couch, Steve was sitting in the old armchair, Darry was standing in the doorway, and Johnny … Johnny was sitting in a wheelchair.

The minute his gaze landed on the chair, a coldness swept over Dally and he heard a faint screaming as though it was coming from the back of the house. He recognized those screams - he'd heard them in jail, too - they weren't real, they were a figment of his fucked-up imagination. He became very still, trying to will the phantom sounds away without anyone being the wiser. _Maybe he was going crazy? _Well, if he was, he certainly didn't want anyone else to know about it.

As soon as the screams started, they stopped. Within seconds, Dally had himself convinced he hadn't heard anything in the first place.

Without a word, he made his way to the kitchen and snagged a beer from the fridge. Grabbing one of the kitchen chairs, he noticed the discarded playing cards on the table and assumed his arrival had interrupted one of the gang's marathon poker games. Seeing that calmed his somewhat, it proved everything was back to normal. He could picture everyone sitting around the table, laughing and arguing while he palmed the best cards and cheated his way to a win.

He made his way back into the room planted the chair on the floor and sat down, straddling the back of it. "So, did you guys miss me?" he said, forcing a grin, trying to convince himself he was fine. Pony and Soda exchanged a glance, but it was Two-Bit who spoke first.

"Of course we missed you, man. What was it? Six months?"

Dally shrugged and took a swig of beer, not really tasting it - it might as well have been water. "Was it that long? Didn't keep track."

Steve snorted in disbelief and Dally shot him a warning look.

"You should have called and let us know you were getting out today. Me or Two-Bit would have come to get you," Darry said as he made his way to the couch, making his brothers move so he'd have room to sit, causing Ponyboy to accidentally plant a knee in the back of Two-Bit's head.

"Shepard gave me a lift." Darry grew tense at the mention of Tim, and Dally remembered the reason for Tim's latest stint behind bars. Maybe it would do Darry good to remember that him and Shepard were cut from the same cloth. You let your guard down around either one of them and you're liable to find yourself disappointed, or worse.

"How is ol' Tim these days?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, Dally, how is ol' Tim?" Darry asked evenly.

Dally folded his arms across the back of the chair, the beer bottle dangling from his fingertips. "Lookin' into some new business prospects. Takin' on some new partners if any of you are interested."

"Thanks for the offer, Dally," Darry said, slowly crossing his arms over his chest - a silent warning to not contradict him. "But everyone here is too busy with school or work to get involved in anything Tim Shepard would be offering."

Dally simply grinned and took another sip of beer. "Your loss, man."

Ponyboy decided it was his turn to speak up. "Johnny's got some cool news, don't ya Johnny?"

Neither Johnny nor Dally responded and Pony continued… "Well … um, I'm not sure if you got the letter I wrote, or not. But Johnny was found not guilty."

"Good for you, kid," Dally said, glancing over at Johnny, but not really looking at him. Johnny simply stared back at him - a weird look on his face, like he was studying him. Pony didn't seem to notice the uneasiness that passed between his two friends and he continued on.

"Also, he's with a foster family now. They're pretty nice, right Johnny?" A small nod was the only answer Ponyboy received.

Dally took a long swig of his beer and stood up suddenly without acknowledging the news. He went into the kitchen to grab another drink.

* * *

"Uh … anyone else finding this whole thing a little awkward?" Soda whispered and Pony nudged him sharply in the ribs. "What? I'm serious. Was Dally body-snatched or brainwashed while in jail?" 

"Sodapop, I dare you to ask Dallas Winston if he's a pod person," Steve said with a grin.

"Hell, I triple-dog-dare you," Two-Bit laughed. "You'll be in the hospital for a month."

"I can't be the only one who's noticed," Soda said earnestly.

"Nah, he was acting strange long before he went to jail," Ponyboy said quietly. He looked at Johnny who had a concerned look on his face. He'd told Johnny about Dally robbing the store and getting shot, but he'd left off the part about the gun not being loaded. None of the guys ever mentioned it; and, truthfully, none of them really knew what to make of it. Almost as though they didn't want to know what it meant.

Without a word, Johnny started to move his chair toward the kitchen. "Johnny …" Ponyboy whispered urgently after him.

"Soda's right, something's up," Johnny said, sounding more determined than anyone had ever heard him before.

* * *

Dally was leaning against the sink, looking out the window and smoking a cigarette. The sun was starting to come out from behind the clouds, but Dally didn't notice. He was staring blindly at a smudge on the glass, letting his eyes go out of focus as a thousand thoughts warred in his head. He couldn't hear any of them. 

"Darry doesn't like it if you smoke in the house," Johnny spoke quietly behind him, breaking through the restless din.

"Good for Darry," Dally said without turning around, flicking his ashes into the sink.

"Everything okay, Dal?" Johnny sounded a little nervous and worried; guilt settled in Dally's stomach. He braced his hands on the counter, gripping the edge until his knuckles turned white.

"I'm fine, kid," he answered curtly and he knew Johnny wouldn't believe him - hell, Two-Bit's kid sister could probably see right through him now. _Maybe the doc was right, I am a lousy liar._

Johnny didn't say anything and Dally realized he would probably sit there in that room all day until Dally finally broke and said something. Well, he didn't have all day. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, tossing the butt into the sink. He swore he could hear the hiss of the water snuffing out the burning embers - loud as a gunshot in the darkness.

He turned and sat down at the table. At first, he focused his attention on the playing cards, absentmindedly picking them up and shuffling them with one hand. Johnny moved to the table, sitting opposite him - still not saying anything, waiting patiently. Slowly, Dally looked up, meeting the dark gaze of his friend - trying to keep his face blank.

He was afraid looking at Johnny - really looking at him - would bring back the screams, would bring back the smell of burning wood, would bring back that feeling of helplessness. He braced himself for it, but it never came and he nearly sighed with relief.

"I'm fine, kid," he repeated with false conviction.

"There's nothin' wrong with _not_ being okay. You know that, right?" Johnny said, surprising Dally. Johnny almost never spoke up unless someone spoke to him first; he most certainly never questioned Dally or doubted what he said. Suddenly, he felt like he was back in the claustrophobic office with Doc Brown, being forced to talk about feelings and bullshit like that.

He didn't answer and Johnny's eyes grew sad. He looked down at his chair. "Is it this? Is it this stupid thing?" Johnny asked and Dally felt like someone had knocked the wind out of him.

"No, kid …"

"It just takes some getting used to," Johnny gave a weak smile. "Hell, I'm still getting used to it, but it ain't as bad as I thought it would be."

"Johnny, it ain't the chair - well, it is, but not the way you think." Dally stood and began to pace, running his fingers through his hair - trying to put into words what he even had a hard time explaining to himself. "It's my fault."

The words hung in the air.

"How is this your fault?"

"I should have stopped you from going in that church. I should have gotten you outta there sooner." He was back at the window again, but instead of the small, unkempt backyard, Dally was seeing a broken-down church - ominous dark smoke pouring out of the boarded-up windows.

"Those kids would of died. Pony might have died," Johnny said quietly.

Dally shrugged but didn't say anything.

"It was worth it, Dal," Johnny practically whispered. Dally immediately thought of the letter Ponyboy had sent him. _It's worth saving those little kids. Tell Dally it's worth it. _He just didn't see it - how could a couple of stupid kids be worth a busted back, how could they be worth dying even?

A car horn sounded outside the house, followed by Darry yelling, "Dallas, it's Shepard."

Dally looked at Johnny, realizing this conversation was far from over but not having any clue as to what to say next. The horn sounded again and he could picture Tim's face as he grew more and more impatient.

"I gotta go, kid," Dally said. He sounded almost apologetic. "I'll see ya around." Now it was Johnny's turn to remain mute as Dallas left the room and made his way out the front door.

"Johnny, is everything okay?" Ponyboy came into the kitchen, a look of concern on his face.

Johnny shrugged, trying to look indifferent but his eyes were full of worry.

"Everything's fine."


	26. Chapter 26

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 26**

A slick, black Pontiac sat idling at the curb, its engine rumbling smoothly. Its driver, however, was far from idle. He was a study in impatience - one arm hooked outside the open window, his hand beating a disjointed rhythm on the roof of the car, while the other hovered over the horn - poised to sound it for a third time. His eyes darted from the windshield, to the rear view mirror, to the front door of the house and back again - repeating the pattern that was second nature to him.

The door finally opened and Winston emerged, moving slower than molasses in goddamn January. The guy moved with absolutely no sense of urgency, as though the world would just fucking sit there and wait for him to catch up.

Tim was beginning to doubt his plan - teaming up with Dallas Winston might just stretch his patience to its breaking point. One thing was certain: either this partnership would work or one of them would end up dead. And Tim Shepard wasn't aiming to die any time soon.

* * *

Dally wasn't surprised to see Shepard in a new car. What did surprise him was just how cool it really was. A GTO, with a convertible top, he had no trouble picturing himself in it - top down, wind whipping through his hair, arm around some hot chick - yeah, it was a cool car.

"Looks like your grandma finally got a new pair of glasses and some taste. This is a tuff ride, Shepard."

Tim opened the door and stepped out of the car, motioning for Dally to take the driver's seat. "It's yours for now. Consider it a company car, so I don't have to haul your sorry ass all over the fuckin' town."

"That's cool and all, but I don't wanna get stopped by some cop for drivin' a hot car three hours after getting out of the cooler."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Relax. They ain't never gonna trace it here. Car's from Oklahoma City. 'Sides, swapped the plates back in some hick town between here and there. The car is clean."

Dally slid into the driver's seat, a sly grin forming on his face as he ran his hands over the steering wheel and crisp, clean dashboard. Tim got in the passenger side and motioned for Dally to start driving.

"I'll explain things as we go," Tim said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a heater. "Figured you'd be needing one of these too, since the fuzz got the one you robbed the store with."

Tim leaned forward and put the gun in the glove compartment. "Now you'll want to be careful with that, seein' as how it's actually loaded."

"Screw you, man - it works in a bluff," Dally hissed under his breath and Tim let out a sharp laugh.

"Ya know, if your bluff ends up landing you in the hospital, shot to hell, and then stuck in prison for six months, then perhaps your bluff ain't working as good as you think."

Dally didn't have a comeback for that one, so he ignored it.

"So, how did things go back there with the Curtis gang?" Tim asked, changing the subject.

Dally shrugged. "Everything's fine, no big deal."

He gripped the steering wheel tighter as that voice in the back of his head started up again. Accusing him of practically running from the house; using Shepard as an excuse to escape. He should have stayed there. They should matter more than this stupid scheme Tim cooked up. Johnny should matter more.

… _Coward … Loser _..._ Weakling …Yellow Bellied … Spineless … Pathetic …_

He wound down the window, hoping the wind would distract him.

"How's the kid?"

"Who?" Dally asked, pretending he didn't know that he meant Johnny.

"What do ya mean, who? Cade. How's he holding up? Curly said Ponyboy was real proud of him. Hell, even Curly sounded like he was almost in awe of the kid." Tim shook his head in amazement as he leaned over and pressed in the car's lighter.

"Johnny's fine. He's got the gang to help him." _And he doesn't need me around to screw things up, _he added silently. The lighter popped out and Tim reached over and grabbed it, using the glowing end to light a cigarette.

"Man, though, it's gonna be tough in this neighborhood. Survivin's hard enough without having to do it stuck in a wheelchair."

"He ain't in this neighborhood anymore, remember," Dally reminded him.

"Yeah, but the neighborhood has a way of following you." Dally rolled his eyes, wondering when the hell Tim Shepard had become a philosopher.

"You going tell me about this master plan of yours; or are we just gonna drive around all day, talking like two old ladies on the stoop?" It came out a little more harshly than he intended, but Dally really wanted to change the topic.

Tim blew out a cloud of smoke. "We'll be there in about twenty minutes. Patience, Winston, or I'll ditch ya right now. If I wanted this kind of crap, I woulda asked Angela to come along."

Dally shivered at the thought of Tim's kid sister tagging along on a job. She was hell-on-wheels - and not in a good, fun, "yeah, I'd do her" kind of way. No man, she had a glint in her eye that made him think once she latched on to you, she wasn't ever letting go. It might piss him off every time Sylvia strayed, but at least he didn't have to pry her off with a crowbar.

Tim's estimation of time was about right and roughly twenty minutes later he was telling him to pull over. Dally looked out the window, surprised to see the large expanse of rich homes that stretched out before them. They were on the West Side of town - the Soc side.

Dally leaned forward, crossing his arms across the top of the steering wheel. "So what's this master plan of yours? We get some rich broads to marry us and we move in?"

Tim sighed, "Or we rob them."

"We're going to rob houses?" Dally asked, still trying to process everything.

Tim nodded, lighting his third cigarette of the trip. "We're going to rob from the rich," he spread his arms wide, indicating the scene out the window, "to give to the poor," he finished by pointing to himself and Dallas.

"Like fuckin' Robin Hood," Dallas grinned.

"Now you're catching on. The way this works is that there's this guy in the post office who processes all the requests for mail to be held for when people go on vacation. He'll find out that a house will be empty, and then he'll tell us, and then …"

"We'll clean them out."

"Exactly."

Dallas was thoughtful for a moment. "Good plan. When do we start?"

Tim pointed out the window, indicating a huge, white house that was perched atop a hill.

"Those kind folks are leaving for vacation in two days. In ten days they will return to an empty house. We start planning now, assemble a crew, and I expect us to roll in five."

Dally nodded, pleased to feel the excitement start to hum in his veins. He'd missed it.

"Cool," was all he said, but that was enough.

They sat there a while, watching the house, getting a feel for the neighborhood. Some people were out and about. A couple of kids were walking a dog that was taller than they were. A woman who was dressed like a servant was pushing a baby stroller on the sidewalk and Dally figured she must be a nanny. It was like looking at some surreal photo come to life. He couldn't believe his neighborhood was only twenty minutes away from this. He was pretty sure that these people would have had the same reaction driving into the East Side of town.

A girl caught his eye, a woman actually. He recognized her immediately, although he'd tried to forget her. She looked all perfect and put together; it actually made him nauseous to look at her. Her step had a bounce to it, obnoxious and fake. She looked innocent, but he had a feeling he knew better. She'd been all full of fire and hate when she'd thrown that coke in his face. She wasn't fooling him.

He started up the car, startling Tim and apparently drawing her attention as well. She looked over at the car, their eyes met - hers narrowed in recognition and Dallas muttered "Son of a bitch…," under his breath.

Pulling away from the curb, breaking her stare - he peeled away down the street, forcing himself not to look back. Things had just gotten a whole lot more interesting.

He wondered what Sylvia was doing tonight.

* * *

_O_

_O_

_O_

_A/N - Thanks again for all of the reviews. I should have the next chapter up later tonight (I was up entirely too late last night, lol)._


	27. Chapter 27

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 27**

A small robin flew into the frame, its red chest a sharp contrast to the green of the grass. Looking through the lens, Johnny followed its path as it hopped across the freshly mown lawn, looking for food. He held his finger above the shutter button, debating whether or not to take a picture; but he hesitated a second too long and the bird flew off.

He and Two-Bit were hanging out in the garden he'd spied from his bedroom window the day he moved in. Two-Bit was sprawled out on the wrought iron bench that was nestled among the various flowers that neither one of them could have named if you'd held a gun to their heads. Johnny was in his chair, trying out the new camera he'd gotten for his birthday. He was having fun with it, framing various pictures through the lens, but not actually taking any of them. He didn't want to waste the film Mary had given him until he was certain it would be a good picture. He'd only taken two so far and he was pretty sure one of them was of his thumb.

A garden was admittedly a strange place to find a pair of greasers, but Johnny liked it. It was peaceful - a great place to just sit and think, even with Two-Bit talking a mile a minute.

Right now, he was weaving some elaborate story that Johnny was only half-listening to. He caught bits and pieces of it - something about Kathy, brakes, and a blonde. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened. Two-Bit's girl, Kathy, had dumped him … again … because he'd been flirting with some blonde … again. He wasn't sure how brakes figured into the story, but with Two-Bit and his car … well, he and the guys usually counted themselves lucky if they reached their destination in one piece whenever Two-Bit volunteered to drive. If Johnny had to lay money on it, he'd bet that Two-Bit and Kathy would be back together by the end of the week.

They'd been out there for a while. Two-Bit had shown up that morning at what was quickly becoming his "usual" time. It wasn't lost on Johnny that this "usual" time happened to coincide with Mary's breakfast which coincidentally rivaled most anything you could get at the Curtis's. It also wasn't lost on Johnny that today was a weekday, meaning Two-Bit should technically be at school. Lately, Two-Bit had been spending most everyday at the Martins'. His reasoning was that it was more important to keep an eye on Johnny than to zone out in classes that were a waste of time anyway since there was no way he could turn his grades around in time to pass this year.

Initially, Johnny had bristled at the "keep an eye on Johnny" part of Two-Bit's explanation - he didn't need anyone to keep an eye on him. He was just a guy in a wheelchair, not some newborn baby who needed help with everything. Deep down, though, he knew what Two-Bit meant and he was grateful for the company.

Mary was nice and all, but he got a little bored watching soaps and game shows all day with her. Plus, he got the feeling she wasn't completely at ease around him. She still talked to him with that kind of fake sounding voice - cheerful, but not really. Around her, he still felt like a guest instead of a member of the household. He wasn't sure if that feeling would ever go away, and part of him wondered if maybe it wasn't supposed to. Maybe foster kids weren't meant to feel completely at home.

He trained the camera on the house, adjusting the focus until he could see into the kitchen window. Mary was standing there, presumably washing dishes at the sink. She looked different; she wasn't smiling and she looked a little sad. Johnny remembered a couple of times - when she didn't know he was looking - her face would kind of lose expression and that happy gleam in her eye would disappear. He'd wondered what she was thinking about at those times, but he never had the guts to ask.

Still watching through the camera and feeling a little guilty about snooping, Johnny saw her reach up with a soapy hand and brush her eyes with the back of her hand. She did it a couple more times and Johnny realized she was crying. Now he really felt guilty. He was invading her privacy, but he couldn't make himself lower the camera.

Suddenly, Two-Bit's face blocked his view. Startled, he pressed the shutter button, taking what was surely a tuff picture of Two-Bit's grinning mug.

"Kid, have you heard one thing I've said to you?"

Johnny sighed as he felt more guilt pile onto his shoulders. "Sorta," he admitted, waiting for Two-Bit to get angry - which he realized was silly because Two-Bit didn't get angry about stuff like that.

Two-Bit just laughed and returned to his seat on the bench. "So what do ya think about me and Kathy?"

"I dunno - maybe you should stop lookin' at every blonde that walks by," Johnny said with a grin.

"I was askin' for some advice; not some out-of-this-world, crazy, completely impossible, totally improbable suggestion," Two-Bit said with an stunned expression, making Johnny roll his eyes.

He had no idea why Two-Bit was asking him in the first place. He knew absolutely nothing about girls, and the only advice he had ever received had come by way of Steve Randle. He made dating sound like facing down a football field full of angry Socs - not exactly high on his list of things to do at the moment.

"Hey, have you seen Dally around?" Johnny asked, trying to change the subject.

"Couple of times. He's been staying at Buck's, I think."

"I don't think he's been at Ponyboy's at all," Johnny said. He was worried. Dally had seemed really out of sorts that day he'd come by the Curtis's. It looked like he was going to lose it, and that scared him. Dally was the strongest person he knew - he could handle anything.

Maybe he'd lied to him? Maybe he couldn't get past the fact that Johnny was crippled now? Maybe that was driving him away from the gang, away from his friends? _More guilt, _Johnny thought to himself and sighed.

As if sensing his thoughts, Two-Bit said, "Don't let him get to you, kid. Dallas Winston has the social skills of a gnat. He may pretend stuff like getting shot and going to prison don't bother him, but that's gotta be bullshit."

Frustrated, Johnny ran his fingers through his bangs, pushing them off his forehead. "I don't know, man. You ever get the feeling that something bad is gonna happen?"

Two-Bit's thoughts immediately jumped back eight or nine months and he nodded, not saying anything. He knew exactly what he meant. But Johnny sitting here in front of him was proof that sometimes those feelings and premonitions didn't necessarily have to come true.

"Boys," Mary's voice drifted from the backdoor, interrupting the conversation. She was standing there with her coat on and the car keys in her hand. "Will you be okay if I run some errands?"

"Sure thing, Mrs. M.. Don't worry, I'll babysit him," Two-Bit announced cheerfully as he reached over and ruffled a scowling Johnny's hair.

Johnny pushed his hand away. "Come on - cut it out with the 'babysitting' stuff, okay?"

Before Two-Bit could apologize, Mary interrupted again. "There's stuff for lunch in the fridge. Oh, and Keith - _Dark Shadows _starts in about twenty minutes."

Johnny groaned. "Ugh, not again. I hate that show."

Two-Bit, however, wasn't listening and was already pushing Johnny's chair toward the house. "I've been dying all weekend to see what happens with Barnabas and Angelique. What do you think?"

"I think I'm going to take a nap," Johnny said dryly.

* * *

Johnny wasn't shocked to find himself sitting alone in front of the television watching some goofy soap opera about werewolves and vampires. Nor was he shocked to hear a loud crash come from upstairs, where Two-Bit had inevitably gotten into something he shouldn't have. Roughly two minutes later, Two-Bit appeared, making his way down the stairs with sheepish grin on his face. Johnny didn't ask - he didn't want to know. He tried to keep Two-Bit from sneaking up there in the first place; a plea that had naturally fallen on deaf ears.

"Oops," Two-Bit said as he made his way into the family room.

"Oops?" Johnny asked, sounding annoyed. "I told ya not to go up there, man."

"Easy kid, don't get your panties in twist. They'll never be the wiser," Two-Bit said as he flopped on the couch. Johnny realized he was carrying something that he'd obviously swiped from one of the rooms above them.

"You ain't thinkin' of stealing …"

Two-Bit actually looked a little hurt. "Relax. I'll put it back in just a second. I just wanted to show you what I found."

Johnny looked nervously at the front door, half-expecting Mary to walk in any second. "Alright, hurry up."

"Well, there's a bedroom upstairs full of stuff that looks like it belongs to a guy. Football posters, cars, trophies - the works."

"So?"

"So … who is the mysterious owner of this room? And look, I found a picture." Two-Bit handed Johnny the small frame. Inside was a picture of Tom and Mary standing on either side of a beaming teenage boy. He was wearing a cap and gown at what was obviously his high school graduation. Johnny couldn't tell what year it was - Mary looked a little thinner and Tom wasn't as gray, so it might have been about four or five years ago.

The guy kind of reminded him of Darry - strong and athletic. Like you could imagine him running down the field to catch a pass that he would never miss. Perfect - someone you'd be proud to have as a son.

Suddenly, Johnny remembered the suit Sarah had made him wear and he let out a laugh. "Big mystery, Two-Bit. Sarah said she has a brother."

"Well, where is he then?" He jumped up from the couch and began pacing.

Johnny shrugged. "Most people do eventually move out of their parents' house."

"Has anyone ever mentioned him? What's his name? Where does he live now? What is everyone hiding?" He kept pointing in Johnny's face, as though each statement should be followed by an exclamation of "Aha!".

"Two-Bit," Johnny interrupted.

"Yeah?"

"You've been watchin' too much TV."


	28. Chapter 28

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 28**

"Ponyboy, I need to talk to you for a minute." Teachers really have no idea the hold they have over their students. How ten simple words, said with the wrong inflection or lack of emotion, can cause seconds, even minutes of panic. _Talk to me? What did I do? Am I still failing? Did I screw up the test so badly that Mr. Syme thinks I need to be pulled from his class immediately, even though there are only a few weeks left of school, so what should it matter anyway? Darry's gonna kill me._

_Okay, maybe I'm getting a little melodramatic here_, Pony admitted to himself as he stood in front of Mr. Syme's desk - waiting for the last of his classmates to exit the room. It took them forever; one girl had to double back and grab the purse she'd left dangling from her chair. Ponyboy almost let out a groan when she hurried back into the room - he felt like he was being executed by a firing squad that kept restarting their countdown.

As soon as the door closed, Mr. Syme opened his desk drawer and pulled out a black and white composition book. He laid his hand over the cover, obscuring the name written on it from Ponyboy's view. Ponyboy had a feeling he knew what it was though - it was his theme. He recognized the creases down the spine, how the edges of some of the pages were tinged a faint brown from the Pepsi he'd accidentally spilled, and how the one corner had been folded over by accident while he'd been bent over his desk, writing furiously. He'd tried to repair the damage - straighten out the corner, blot away the soda - so it didn't look like he was handing in something old and battered. It hadn't worked.

"Ponyboy," Mr. Syme said as he looked up at the nervous teenager, "this is some of the best writing any student has ever presented to me."

Pony didn't answer him at first; it was taking the words a few moments to work their way from his ears to his brain. He knew he was standing there with a stupid look on his face - eyes wide and glassy, mouth hanging open like he was trying to catch flies - but he couldn't help it. He was tempted to ask his teacher to repeat what he said, just to make sure he wasn't going crazy.

"R-really?" he managed to stutter in response. Mr. Syme smiled warmly as he picked up the book and handed it to him. The notebook felt heavy in his hands - the weight of all those words bearing down on him.

"I was truly honored that you wanted to share this story with me." Pony carefully opened the cover; a grade and comments were scrawled across the title page in red ink. The grade was an A and he felt his chest swell with pride. Darry - he couldn't wait to tell Darry. He imagined coming home, walking up to his big brother, presenting him with the composition book, waiting in anticipation for him to open it and see the grade and read the comments. He knew he wouldn't though - showing Darry his paper would mean he would want to read it. Pony didn't think either one of them was ready for that yet.

He and Darry were getting along a lot better now, certainly better than a year ago. But their relationship seemed tenuous, like the littlest thing could break it and there would be no way to put it back together this time. Some of the things he'd written, some of the stuff he'd felt at the time …well, he didn't want to give Darry a reason to hate him again. How screwed up was it that he found it easier to share this stuff with his teacher - a guy he barely knew - than with his own brother?

"I know we discussed your grade, and that I told you I would give you a C." Ponyboy nodded mutely in agreement. "Well, I think that I could be convinced to up that to a B, as long as you don't spread around the rumor that I've gone soft in my old age."

Pony slowly smiled. "I think I can handle that." He gathered up the rest of his books and prepared to head for the door when Mr. Syme stopped him again.

"Wait, Ponyboy. There's one more thing …"

* * *

The lady was staring at him. Well, maybe not staring, but Johnny could feel her eyes on him. She'd look up from her desk, glance quickly at him, then slide her eyes to his chair, and then return her attention to the papers she was shuffling around. She kept doing it, over and over again, and all Johnny could think of were the "Lather, Rinse, Repeat" instructions on shampoo bottles. It was all getting to be very uncomfortable and he forced himself to keep his eyes down, trained on his sneakers, as he silently wished that he could become invisible. 

He couldn't believe how much this was bothering him; and he was a little embarrassed by his reaction. He'd thought he'd finally gotten over his unease with going out in public, in having people either openly stare at him or look away quickly, pity in their eyes. Of course, those people were usually strangers. They really didn't matter, in the long run.

Here - even if he couldn't remember their names, even if he'd never met them, even if he'd never laid eyes on them before - these people weren't strangers. This was high school; there was no place to hide and no way to ignore the glances and whispers.

He looked over at Sarah, who was sitting in a chair next to him. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," he said nervously.

She reached over and squeezed his hand lightly. "Don't worry, I'll be right next to you. You don't have to go in there alone."

The small intercom chirped on the secretary's desk and she cleared her throat. "Johnny," she said in a gentle voice that grated like fingernails down a chalkboard, "the principal is ready to see you now."

As soon as they entered the office, Principal Clark stepped out from behind his desk and offered Sarah his hand in greeting.

"Nice to meet you," he said as he shook her hand, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. He leaned over and placed a strong hand on Johnny's shoulder. "It's good to see you, Johnny."

It took all of Johnny's willpower not to shrug the guy's hand off his shoulder. _Good to see me?_ Johnny thought. _Yeah, right._

The last time he'd been here he'd been given three days detention for something he hadn't even done. Some Soc had pushed this nerdy kid into a locker, spilling his books and breaking his glasses. Before Johnny knew what was happening, a teacher had grabbed him and sent him to the office, claiming he had done the pushing. Principal Clark didn't even give him a chance to defend himself. He tried to tell him that it was that guy, Dean Something-Or-Other, who had pushed the kid. Clark didn't care. He didn't believe him - or he didn't want to. It was definitely easier to punish a greaser than it was to punish a Soc. No greaser's parents were likely to come down and defend their kid, least of all his parents.

"Well, Johnny, Miss Martin asked me to see the two of you today," the principal explained as he made his way back to his leather chair behind the imposing desk. Sarah pulled up a chair next to Johnny and gave him a comforting smile. Principal Clark was looking at him like he expected him to say something. He had no idea what to say, so he just nodded, hoping the guy would get the hint and continue.

"We both agree that you've shown tremendous improvement in your work since, well …" he trailed off, not finishing his sentence, but everyone knew what he meant. He cleared his throat, trying to cover the awkward moment before continuing. "She made the suggestion that you should continue with your schoolwork through the summer, picking up work from the other classes you've missed this year."

At first it sounded like a lot, almost too much; then Johnny realized he'd nearly completed the work for three of his classes anyway. There were really only two classes he hadn't done any work for - biology and algebra. Biology because he really hated the teacher and didn't think any amount of work would make the guy happy, so why bother. And algebra because, well … he was really bad at math.

"O-okay," he said hesitantly - maybe he could make this work. He'd get Pony to help, he was really good at tutoring him in his other classes and he remembered him bragging about his grade in science last year. And who knows, maybe Tom was secretly genius at math.

"So, if you keep on track and keep your grades up, you'll be able to start your junior year next year." Principal Clark was smiling - Johnny had never seen him smile before. He decided he liked the scowl better, it looked more natural.

"That's terrific. Thank you so much," Sarah said. She smiled at Johnny and patted him on the arm - she looked proud. He didn't know how to react; no one, least of all an adult, had ever looked at him like that before.

Clark, however, wasn't finished. The principal's smile faded and was replaced with a look Johnny was much more familiar with. "Now, Miss Martin, I assume you will be monitoring his work carefully and make sure all of this is on the up and up."

Sarah's eyes narrowed behind her glasses and Johnny grew very still. "Excuse me?" she said slowly.

"As I said, his work has improved dramatically."

"Just what are you implying?" Sarah was getting angry and Johnny began wishing he'd told her "no" when she suggested the meeting today. He knew all it would get him was trouble.

"Miss Martin, in your line of work, I'm sure you've run into the typical tough kids who try to work around the system. I know he's had Ponyboy Curtis helping him, and all I can say is that I've been seeing grades more in line with a student like Ponyboy than what I am used to seeing with Mr. Cade."

Sarah looked like she was going to launch herself across the desk and strangle the guy. Johnny wanted to tell her to shrug it off - it was no big deal. This was just the way things worked around here.

"Sarah, it's okay," he said, trying to get her to calm down. She looked at him, and for a second it looked like she was angry with him.

"No it's not okay." She looked pissed-off and sad at the same time. "You've worked really hard and you deserve to be proud of that."

She turned her attention back to the principal, who looked like he was beginning to question the direction he'd taken the conversation. "You should be encouraging students to do well, not doubting them when they do. Maybe then, a student like Ponyboy, who doesn't have all of the benefits that some of the other kids have, wouldn't be such a rarity."

* * *

Johnny didn't take a breath until they were in the hallway. Sarah collapsed against the cool, brick wall that was littered with posters and announcements. She let out a nervous laugh. 

"Wow," she said and a big grin spread across her face.

Johnny just stared at her, at a loss for words.

"Did I just do that?" she asked and Johnny couldn't help it - he returned her smile. "Did I just chew out Principal Clark?"

"Yeah, I think you did," Johnny answered. He found himself imagining her going toe to toe with Dally in an argument. That sure would be a sight to see.

"Well, he deserved it. He always was a pompous jerk," she said, a triumphant glint sparking in her eyes.

"You went to school here?"

"Yeah, it feels like forever, but it's been five years. Five long years," she said with a wistful sigh. She pulled her glasses off and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Gosh, I feel old."

"He didn't act like he recognized you," Johnny observed as Sarah got behind his chair and started to push it toward the exit.

"Of course not. Why would he? I didn't play any sports, I sure as heck wasn't a cheerleader, and my family wasn't rich. They're the only things that matter around here."

"You got that right," Johnny agreed.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the day and Johnny's grip tightened on the armrests until his knuckles turned white. Like a floodgate being opened, students spilled into the hallway. Sarah and Johnny hadn't been far from the doors, but now their path was blocked with rowdy teenagers, anxious to get out and enjoy the few remaining hours of daylight. He'd always hated that rush of people - that disorienting feeling of being swept up in a mass of bodies all pushing in one direction. Sarah pulled his chair up against the wall, away from the crowd. At least with everyone in a hurry, no one really noticed him sitting there.

His eyes scanned the hallway, looking for a familiar face. Sarah saw him before Johnny did and called out, "Ponyboy, over here."

Pony stopped dead in the middle of the hall, causing a momentary clog as people tried to get around him. He looked confused and Johnny figured he wasn't used to girls calling out his name in the middle of the school. It was kind of funny to watch him scan the crowd, trying to discern which blonde, brunette or redhead was calling for him. Johnny had to give him credit, though - he still looked happy even when he realized it had been him and Sarah trying to get his attention.

"Hey, guys," Pony said as he made his way over to them. "What are you doin' here?"

"Had an appointment with Clark," Johnny shrugged.

"Everything okay?" Ponyboy looked worried.

"Yeah, everything's fine." Johnny sounded like he had a mouth full of marbles and Sarah rolled her eyes.

"He got some great news today. Not that he'd ever admit it," she said, making no attempt to hide the exasperation in her voice. The crowd was thinning out and she began steering the wheelchair toward the door with Ponyboy walking alongside them.

"I got some good news today, too. Y'all should come over for dinner to celebrate," Pony sounded excited and Johnny figured Mary and Tom wouldn't mind. Sarah was the only one that needed convincing.

"I don't know …"

"Come on, it'll be nice. And Darry won't care. People drop by all the time." Johnny looked up at Sarah and he noticed that she seemed even more hesitant when Pony mentioned Darry.

"Well, I already had something planned for dinner …" she explained half-heartedly. Johnny didn't know how he could tell, but he knew she was lying.

"Geez, Pony - I guess I can't go if Sarah doesn't," Johnny gave an exaggerated sigh, hoping to lay on some guilt. He wasn't being very subtle about it.

"I guess not," Pony agreed, a sad frown furrowing his brow. "And there was probably going to be cake."

Sarah shook her head in defeat and laughed. "I give up - I'll go. Happy now?"

* * *

When Darry came home, the house was filled with the comforting scent of baking biscuits and chocolate cake. He was surprised to see Sarah on the couch, flipping through an old issue of _Popular Mechanics _that Soda had brought home from the DX. He realized she wasn't really reading it when she flipped through the same ten pages at least five times without stopping once. 

Sarah looked up when she realized he was standing there. Her glasses were pushed back on top of her head, holding her hair back, which was unconfined and loose around her shoulders. He realized he'd never seen it down before - it was usually back in a bun or up in a ponytail. It looked nice. She smiled and he realized he'd been caught staring.

Clearing his throat, he said, "Um, hello."

"Hello," she repeated, leaning forward to place the magazine on the rickety coffee table.

"Interesting reading?" he asked, trying to figure out what to say. He used to be good at this, he thought. It wasn't like he'd never spoken to a woman before. Of course, since his parents died, his interaction with the female population had pretty much been reduced to answering the social worker's monthly round of twenty questions. And she sure as hell didn't look like Sarah Martin.

"Riveting," Sarah answered. "I may have to look into getting a subscription."

Darry smiled as his mind scrolled through potential topics to bring up next:

_The weather? _Too boring … _His job? _No woman wants to talk about roofing … _Her job? _He really didn't want to talk about social work … _Movies? _He hadn't seen one in over a year …_Music? _They'd already gone down that road once before and established that she had no taste … which brought him back to …

"So," he said as crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, trying to look at ease, "nice weather we're havin'."

Sarah was saved from answering when Ponyboy and Sodapop came out of the kitchen, carrying the various bowls and dishes that comprised dinner. Johnny followed, pushing his chair up to the table.

"Okay, guys, dinner is served," Soda said cheerfully.

Everything looked great - a hearty spread of chicken, mashed potatoes, carrots, and biscuits. And Darry noted that everything was the color Mother Nature intended.

"Got home late from work, Soda?" Darry asked as he took his seat.

"Yeah, how did you know?" Soda asked, a perplexed look on his face.

"Lucky guess," he answered dryly.

Everyone ate in silence for the next several minutes, enjoying the food and the companionship. After two rounds of helpings, Soda got up and cleared the plates to get ready for dessert.

"Johnny has some good news and, apparently so does Ponyboy," Sarah announced after Soda had returned with the cake and clean plates. Johnny looked like he wanted to disappear under the table and Pony looked like he was going to burst in excitement.

"Let Johnnycake go first, before he dies of embarrassment," Soda said as he gently nudged his friend on the arm.

"Thanks, Soda," Johnny muttered. "It's nothing, really. I just had a meeting with Principal Clark."

"Johnny will be a junior next year if he finishes his schoolwork over the summer," Sarah explained. "They agreed not to hold him back."

"That's terrific," Pony said with a grin.

Johnny looked at his friend. "I'll need some more help. It's bio and algebra."

"Did you think I would say no?" Pony tried to look offended, but his smile ruined it.

"How did you get them to agree to that?" Darry asked, looking at Sarah.

She started to explain when Johnny suddenly interrupted, "You should of seen it, Darry. She really put ol' Clark in his place." Johnny's eyes glowed with admiration.

"Really?" Darry asked, kind of surprised that she would be able to stand up to a guy like Clark - he could be really intimidating. Lately, Darry hadn't had any trouble with Ponyboy, but Clark had treated Soda like he was some sort of criminal mastermind. The guy was a stubborn jackass - once he decided you were a troublemaker, you might as well have it tattooed across your forehead, because you were never going to change his mind. If Soda so much as breathed wrong in class or spoke too loudly in the hallway, he was given detention. He figured Johnny - who barely spoke and never caused trouble - had similar problems with the guy.

"It wasn't that earth shattering," Sarah assured them as she took the plate Soda was offering.

"Did he cry?" Soda asked, clasping his hands in front of him as though he was pleading with her. "Please tell me he cried."

"Like a baby," Sarah said with a completely serious expression.

Soda stared at her for a second, a bewildered look on his face. "Really?" he practically squeaked.

"Okay," Darry interrupted, ready to change the subject, "what's your big news, Ponyboy."

Pony was about to take a huge bite of cake, but put the fork down now that he had everyone's attention. "Mr. Syme talked to me today. A friend of his is an editor at the Tribune and he runs an internship there during the summer for students. Mr. Syme put in a good word for me and the editor wants to set up an interview."

Soda had a huge smile on his face. "Ponyboy Curtis, reporter at large."

Pony's enthusiasm was infectious, and Darry found himself feeling that same thrill of anticipation he'd experience before a big game. It felt like validation; his sacrifices weren't in vain. This is what he wanted for his brothers - opportunities, a chance at a future.

"Yeah, isn't it cool? Maybe I'll get to write an undercover expose about -"

"What exactly is in the cafeteria meatloaf?" Johnny interrupted and Soda beamed at him.

"Good one, kid."

Ponyboy cleared his throat. He was a little annoyed at the interruption; but had to admit it was funny. "As I was saying, it's really exciting - only six students get picked and they're really selective about who they choose."

"That's wonderful, Ponyboy," Sarah said from across the table.

Darry reached out and placed a strong, comforting hand on Ponyboy's arm. It was a gesture their dad used to make when he and Darry were talking about football or plans for college. Pony always thought it was his dad's way of silently saying, _It's us against the world, son._

"I'm really proud of you, kiddo. Really proud," Darry said and for a second Pony thought he could close his eyes and here his dad's voice in Darry's words.

"Thanks, Darry," Pony responded, surprised to feel his throat growing tight.

He decided that as soon as he got up the nerve, he was going to show his brother his theme. More than anyone, he deserved to read it.

* * *

_O_

_O_

_O_

_A/N Okay, this turned out to be a really long chapter. I was going to jump ahead and start with the next school year, but got the idea for Pony working at the newspaper and thought that it could be interesting. Don't worry, I didn't forget about the mystery of the guy in the photo and I didn't forget about Dally. There will definitley be a chapter chronicling Dal and Tim's Excellent Adventures (although it probably won't be the next one) - surely everything will go as planned?_

_Thanks again for the all of the reviews. You guys have been great._


	29. Chapter 29

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 29**

_Faded Photographs_

by Ponyboy Curtis

Every summer, I would fill a jar with twigs and grass, a makeshift home for the fireflies I caught every night with my friends. My older brother, Darry would help me poke holes in the lid with a nail so that they wouldn't suffocate. My mom would always make me promise to set them free, telling me that anything captured for too long would soon die. But I'd hide them in my closet and bring them out in the dead of night when the rest of the house was asleep. The soft green glow would light up my bedroom as I watched the fireflies crawl and fly through the jungle I'd given them. Inevitably, though, the glow would fade to darkness and I would realize I should have listened to my mother.

The older I get, it seems like everything is getting darker, the light is becoming harder to hold on to. Summer used to mean something more than no school, longer days, and rising heat. When I was a kid, summer meant a time of innocence and freedom. Of course, you might argue that at fourteen - about to turn fifteen in a few weeks - I am still a kid. One thing this last year has taught me, childhood is as fleeting as a sunset.

When that bell would ring at the end of the last day of school in June - that was a golden moment in every kid's life. We were free. Free to do whatever we wanted; no stuffy rules and regulations to bog us down.

Free to catch minnows in the creek as we waded in the cool water; getting our hand-me-down cutoffs soaking wet and ruining our favorite pair of sneakers in the mud.

Free to walk along the train tracks as we dared one another to dodge a train that was miles away and never any danger to begin with.

Free to lay out on our backs in the tall grass as the warmth of the day faded to a muggy coolness as we counted the stars and talked about our dreams. The sky was huge and it always seemed like there were at least a billion stars - one for every dream I had. Of course, at the time those dreams usually revolved around playing ball for the White Sox or battling the bad guys with Spiderman - but they were dreams, nonetheless.

During the summer, falling asleep was the hardest, like your mind didn't want to let go of the day - sleep was a surrender that brought that last day of summer one step closer. And let me tell you, there's nothing worse than trying to fall asleep in a hot room where the air isn't moving and your mind won't shut off and leave you in peace.

My brother, Sodapop, and I devised a solution to this problem. We'd wait for my father's snoring to rumble through the house; our signal that the coast was clear. Like thieves in the night, we'd sneak outside with blankets and pillows in tow, and we'd sleep on the porch in our improvised beds. We liked to believe we had one-up on our parents, that they never knew - but I bet Mom did. Nothing got past her. Regardless, it was like a grand adventure - maybe we were on a treasure hunt on a deserted island, or a rocket flight to the moon, or maybe we were rafting down the Mississippi, on the run from the law. Anything is possible when you're eight and your ten-year-old brother is by your side.

I always thought there was a weird stillness about summer that is hard to explain. When I was younger, there were those moments were everything seemed to slow down and stop, like a series of photographs chronicling my childhood. I still carry those snapshots in my memory:

_My mother _- beautifully bathed in sunlight, handing out lunch from a wicker basket as we all sat outside on a threadbare blanket, enjoying an impromptu picnic.

_My father and Darry _- sitting on a rickety wooden bridge as their fishing lines dangled in the water, practically forgotten as they talked about anything and everything but fishing.

_My best friend, Johnny _- running to making an impossible catch in the end zone during a game of neighborhood football, cinching the win for our team.

_My other friends _- Dallas, Steve, and Two-Bit - goofing off in the crowded community pool, pretending to _accidentally_ splash the ladies lining the poolside who were stretched out on the old lounge chairs while their own kids were off bugging someone else.

_My brother, Sodapop _- riding this ornery horse named Mickey Mouse so far into the field that they became one with the horizon. Man, did Soda love that horse.

I have to hold on tight to these snapshots of memory, because, like I said, we all grow up too fast anymore. I have to be diligent - keep them from fading and cracking. I'm finding it harder and harder to make new ones. One minute, you're thirteen with the world at your feet and not a care in the world. Blink, and seconds later the photographs alter and your world begins to shift.

Soda will never ride Mickey again. The guy who owned the stables had to sell him to help make ends meet.

My parents are gone. Picnics and fishing trips are a thing of the past.

Darry doesn't have time anymore to sit and daydream, not with two brothers to raise.

My buddy, Johnny - well, he never will be able run and catch another touchdown like he did that day.

Steve and Two-Bit are still around - still causing trouble, still like family. A little older, I'm not sure how much wiser.

And Dallas - sometimes the bonds of friendship can break and someone can drift away, swept up by change and time. I keep hoping that one day he'll come striding back into my house, slam the door as usual, and propose a bit of mischief for that night. All in good fun, of course.

As for me - well, the stars seem a little dimmer, my dreams a little smaller. We all grow up too fast. Summer after summer seem shorter and shorter - the green of the season is quickly replaced with the brown of autumn and then the gray of winter. I'm afraid I'm forgetting, that it never really used to be the way I remember.

Time never stops, but I have to at least try to slow it down a bit and savor every moment, take as many pictures as possible.

After all … I am still just a kid.

* * *

Ponyboy was watching Johnny as he read his article. His stomach was in knots and he couldn't stop his leg from shaking. Johnny was reading carefully, like he was weighing each and every word. Finally, he looked up. 

"Well, what did you think, man?" Pony asked so quickly that it sounded more like, "Wellwhatdidyouthinkman?"

The corner of Johnny's mouth lifted slightly into a smile that seemed kind of sad, a little wistful - a mirror of the one Pony had while he was writing it. "This is great Pony. You never told me you could write like that."

Pony broke out into a huge grin. "You mean that?"

"Yeah, I mean that."

"Are you okay with … do you mind …"

Johnny shrugged and looked down at his chair. "It's true isn't it?"

"I know, it's just …"

Johnny interrupted. "Hey, it _was_ a great catch."

"The best," Pony agreed, his eyes started to water a bit and he figured his allergies were acting up. Never mind the fact that he didn't actually have any allergies. Slightly embarrassed, he wiped his eyes and cleared his throat.

Johnny handed him the article and Pony looked down at it, the words a blur. "It doesn't really sound like a newspaper article, though." Pony said as he nervously chewed his bottom lip. "It's not like it has any actual news in it."

"Well, what did this editor guy tell you to write?"

"He just said to write about summertime in Tulsa. He said it should be like an editorial," Ponyboy explained.

"So what's the problem?" Johnny said with a grin. " This is exactly what summertime in Tulsa is like. At least in our neighborhood."

"Maybe I should write something else. I could take a different approach. Interview some people. That's what reporters do, right?" Pony stood up and started to pace.

"Pony, just send in the article. What's the worst thing that could happen?"

Ponyboy collapsed on the couch with a sigh. "I don't get the internship."

"Ya gotta quit worrying, man. You're gonna get it."

* * *

The bus dropped him off a block away from the building that housed the newspaper offices. Just walking that short block had Pony cursing his decision to wear one of Darry's ties. He felt like he was being strangled by the heat and he was sorely tempted to tear the thing off and shove it in his pocket. Once he stepped inside the building, he realized he shouldn't have worn the thing in the first place - he was completely overdressed. 

Over the course of the last week, Pony had been imagining what the newsroom must look like. He'd envisioned the fast paced hustle and bustle, reporters furiously typing away, phones ringing off the hook, and papers flying everywhere. Everyone would engage in witty banter and arguments would break out as reporters jockeyed for the front-page story.

What he found when he stepped through the smudged glass door did not match the vision he'd been carrying around in his head. A wall of heat slammed into him, the whir of a tiny desk fan trying to prove to him that it was doing everything it could to move the air around. Everything seemed old and gray. The lighting seemed off somehow - like it leached everything of color. A tired looking lady with frizzy black hair was sitting at the reception desk, the phone to her ear as she lazily filed her dark red nails.

"Yeah, what d'ya want, kid?" she said in greeting as she cracked her gum, not even looking at him. "Paperboys get paid next week."

"Um, I have an appointment with," he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, "Mr. Roberts."

She rolled her eyes and said to the person on the other line, "I gotta go, Dottie, I'll call ya later."

Pony stepped forward to say something, but she held up a finger, silencing him as she dialed the phone. "Chris, yeah I gotta kid here for you. Name's …hold on," she put her hand over the receiver. "What's your name, kid?"

"Ponyboy Curtis," he said and she stared at him for a beat, her mouth hanging open.

"Right," she muttered before removing her hand from the phone. "Says his name is Ponyboy Curtis," she listened for a moment, said a few "Uh-huhs", then nodded and hung up.

"You can head on back. Chris's desk is the last one on the right."

The newsroom looked a little better than the reception area. Two rows of desks stretched the length of the room. Most of the desks were empty, but there were a few occupants scattered here and there.

A few fans were trying to do battle with the heat, but they were losing. Everyone looked wilted. The guys had their shirtsleeves rolled to their elbows, the top button undone. There wasn't a tie in sight and Pony awkwardly tugged on his. There was a woman reporter at one desk, typing out a story - her hair was swept up into a haphazard bun and Ponyboy counted at least three pencils holding it up. She gave him a weary smile as he walked by.

One guy was on the phone and Pony could hear a snippet of conversation as he walked past. He was asking about surviving relatives and Pony saw that the nameplate on his desk read Obituaries. He shuddered at that - he couldn't imagine spending all day asking people about loved ones who died. That had to be one hell of a depressing job.

Pony finally made it to the last desk. The guy sitting at it looked out of place amongst the rest of the room. He was younger for one thing, a lot younger. His hair was curly, but he wore it long - it almost brushed the top of his shoulders. He had sideburns that reminded Pony of Two-Bit, and he was wearing those wire rimmed glasses that had become popular because of The Beatles. His clothes were rumpled, more like what college students were wearing than what you'd expect to see in a professional newsroom.

He stood as Pony approached his desk. "Ponyboy Curtis?" he asked as he held out his hand.

"Yes, sir," Pony said as he shook the offered hand.

The guy chuckled. "Please, call me Chris. Have a seat."

After they sat, Chris started riffling through the papers on his desk. It was a disorganized mess which matched his disheveled appearance. After a minute of looking, he triumphantly pulled out a piece of paper.

"Here we go. _Faded Photographs_," he said to himself as he leaned back in his chair and read over the copy. Pony felt his hands grow clammy, it was his article and now he was going to have to watch this stranger read it in front of him. After a couple of minutes, Chris dropped the paper back on his desk and scooted forward in his chair, propping his elbows on the desk.

"Not bad, kid. Not bad at all," he said with a thoughtful nod. Pony let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"Thank you," Pony said tentatively. It had sounded like a compliment, but he didn't want to assume. This guy was so laid back that it was hard to tell.

"So, here's the deal. This is a program that we started last year and it was a big success, so we decided to do it again this summer. The paper is setting aside two pages every Saturday for us and we have carte blanche to do whatever we want. I'm rounding up a half dozen local high school students to write the articles, decide on content, teach them layout, the works. It's a huge opportunity and not a bad way to beat the heat."

Pony raised an eyebrow at that - they were practically sitting in an oven right now. Chris laughed.

"Air conditioner is on the fritz. One good thing is that everyone works a little faster, to get the hell out of here. Most of tomorrow's edition is already set. These guys," Chris motioned to the few stragglers in the room, "are just too old to move fast anymore."

"Screw you, Chris," one guy yelled out from a desk that was a few stations down from where they were sitting.

"As I was saying, last year was a hit with our readers, but I'd like to take it a step further. We'll still have your typical puff pieces about summer jobs, the hip hairstyles, why Paul McCartney is dreamy, the usual stuff teenagers love. But I'd like to have some content with weight - stuff like that paper you wrote for your English class." The color drained from Ponyboy's face. He hadn't realized Mr. Syme had shown this guy his paper.

"Easy, kid - you look like you're ready to pass out. Syme loved that paper and wanted to get a second opinion. I had him for class ten years ago and he helped steer me toward college and a future. I'd probably be working at some store bagging groceries if it wasn't for him."

"You read my theme?" Pony asked, feeling like he was doing nothing to hold up his end of this conversation.

"I did, and I agree with what you wrote about having to let people know about what is going on right under their noses. I grew up in the poorer side of town and I know how tough it is to get out of there. We could run this article next week, let people get to know you, have them start to care about you," he said as he held up the one Pony had just written. "And then we'll follow-up with a series of articles detailing the events you went through last year."

Pony thought about it for a moment - part of him was excited, this was exactly what he had set out to do when he wrote the theme in the first place. He wanted to show everyone that - greaser or Soc, rich or poor - everyone was the same deep down inside.

Another part of him was terrified - did he really want to stir things up again, bring up difficult subjects that seemed to have been forgotten over the last few months. And what would the guys think? He still hadn't shown any of them his theme; every time he was about to, he'd think up a new excuse. Darry looked tired, Soda was getting ready for a date, Johnny was too busy with schoolwork. He just couldn't admit the truth - that he was a coward. Agreeing to this would certainly give him the kick in the ass he needed to finally show his work to everyone.

While Ponyboy sat thinking, Chris's phone rang. He picked it up and talked quietly into the receiver. He hung up and looked expectantly at Ponyboy. "My next interview is here. So what'll be?"

"Okay," he said, realizing there was never any chance he'd say no. "When do we start?"

Chris smiled, he looked genuinely excited. "We'll all meet on Monday to decide on the content and to make story assignments for next Saturday's edition. Then you have all week to work on it. There isn't a set schedule; but your deadline will be Friday by three so that it can be edited and the pages set."

"So Monday?" Pony asked, writing it down on a piece of scrap paper.

"Monday," Chris confirmed, as he held out his hand again and Pony shook it as he stood up. "I look forward to working with you, Ponyboy."

Pony turned around and quickly made his way down the aisle. His mind was moving a million miles a minute, already sifting through ideas for a second article. He wasn't paying attention and collided with a woman who was walking toward the back of the room, in the direction he just came from.

"S-sorry," he stuttered as he looked up, embarrassed, and met the eyes of the stranger he'd almost knocked over. She looked a little flustered and it took a moment for recognition to flicker in her eyes. For Pony it was more instantaneous, her name screamed in his mind like it always did when he saw her.

"What are you doing here?" Pony asked, he sounded out of breath.

"I -" she started to answer, but was interrupted by Chris, who had stepped up behind them.

"Miss Valance, it's great to see you. My desk is back this way," he motioned for her to follow him.

Pony and Cherry's gazes stayed locked for a second longer and she smiled.

"It's good to see you, Ponyboy."

"Miss Valance, this is a newspaper, we have deadlines," Chris interrupted and Cherry mouthed the word "Oops," before making her way down the row of desks.

Pony stared after her, his mind reeling.

This was certainly going to be one long summer.

* * *

O 

O

O

_A/N - Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. _


	30. Chapter 30

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 30**

The rain fell at a steady pace, soaking the ground. The few measly patches of grass that dotted the yard were beaten down into the mud, like they'd given up and accepted their fate. A small waterfall was streaming off the roof of the porch, and Darry groaned. The damn gutter needed fixing. He mentally added it to the ever growing list of repairs that seemed to crop up daily.

His mood matched the sky - cloudy and bleak. He hated the rain. Rain meant no roofing, which meant no work, which meant no money. It was Monday and he was supposed to be starting a new job today. Hopefully, there'd be enough overtime later in the week to make up for the lost day.

Ponyboy rushed into the family room as Two-Bit's car pulled up and over the curb before shuddering to a stop. Pony was wearing one of Soda's old dress shirts that had seen better days. But compared to what Pony usually wore, he might as well been decked out in a suit jacket and tie, that was how different he looked.

Darry gave him a confused look. "Thought you said this place is kind of laid back?"

Pony stopped and quickly looked in the mirror hanging on the wall. "It is, but ya know - want to make a good first impression," he answered as he smoothed down a lock of hair that had apparently come out of place, despite the ton of hair grease slicking it back.

Darry took a step back as his brother made his way out the door. As Pony walked by him, Darry caught a scent of something other than soap and hair oil. "Pony, are you wearing my cologne?"

Pony's face turned red and he started to answer. "Um …" Two-Bit honked the horn, saving him from answering. Holding up his left arm and pulling back his shirt sleeve, Ponyboy looked at his wrist as though he was checking his watch - a watch he didn't have. "Golly, will you look at the time. Gotta run," he said as he rushed out into the rain.

He stopped suddenly on the last step and turned. "Oh, Darry - I left something for you to read on the kitchen table." He said it so fast that Darry only really caught the part about the kitchen table. Before he could ask him to repeat it, Pony was slamming the car door and Two-Bit was speeding down the street.

Darry made his way into the kitchen and found a notebook laying on the table. Pulling out a chair, he sat down with a weary sigh and grabbed the book. Pony's name was on the cover and he'd titled it "A Different Sunset". Darry immediately thought about all the times he'd caught Pony staring off into space, watching the sky grow dark. The title certainly fit his little brother.

Unsure of what to expect, Darry opened the book with some degree of nervousness. He read the first line and was immediately pulled into the story. Pony hadn't told him what he had written, he hadn't even hinted at what the topic was. Darry had figured his essay would be about a trip to the country or the day Dad taught him to ride a bike - things any other fourteen year old would think to write about. Never in a million years would he have guessed that his brother would share something so deep and personal.

He sat there reading, unsure of what to think, how to react. The insistent drumming of rain on the roof and the soft rustling of turning pages the only sounds in the house.

* * *

Chris was the only person Ponyboy recognized in the tiny conference room. There were four other people there - two girls and two guys. He figured they might be from one of the other high schools in town. They looked a little older than him, maybe sixteen or seventeen. That didn't surprise him; ever since he'd been put up a grade in school he'd found himself in situations surrounded by older kids. He wondered if he'd ever be able to interact with kids his own age, or if he'd even want to.

Chris glanced back at the clock hanging on the wall and then he looked at his watch, as though he was verifying the time. It was exactly one minute past the time he'd scheduled the meeting. Pony wasn't sure what they were waiting for and he was a little alarmed to discover he was hoping that maybe they were actually waiting for _someone_.

The second hand made another sweep around the clock and the minute hand moved a fraction of an inch. Chris cleared his throat and pushed his glasses back with his index finger. "Okay, guys, let's get on with --" The door behind him opened, interrupting him.

Cherry rushed into the room, flushed and out of breath, a dripping umbrella clutched in her hand. She flashed a brilliant smile at the editor but he didn't return it. "Miss Valance, as we discussed before --"

"I know, I know. 'This is a newspaper. We have deadlines.' " Her voice was lilting, her tone sincere and apologetic. "I'm so sorry, it won't happen again, I swear."

She took the empty seat next to Pony, smoothing her skirt and tucking a few flyaway strands of hair behind her ear as she settled into place. She glanced at Pony from the corner of her eye, and he gave her what he hoped was a confident grin, but it felt wobbly and uncertain.

Chris cleared his throat. "As I was saying. Deadlines are important - the most important thing you have to remember is the deadline for your story. I'm a pretty easy going guy; but hand in your story two minutes after three pm on Friday and I won't be such a nice guy."

There was a scraping of metal chairs on the floor as everyone in the room sat up a little straighter.

* * *

"Ponyboy, wait up," Cherry called after him as he hurried down the sidewalk toward the bus stop. The rain had let up a bit, but it was still drizzling and he didn't have an umbrella - naturally, he had forgotten to grab one before leaving the house. He stopped anyway, despite the rain. 

She quickly caught up with him, her umbrella blocking out the dampness as she held it over the two of them. "Hey," she said as a greeting and then stood there, an awkwardness lingering in the silence between them.

"Hey," he echoed as he stared down at his scuffed shoes.

She looked at him for a moment, as though she were weighing her words carefully. "Are you really going to write about everything that happened last year?"

He wasn't shocked by her question. He'd been expecting it ever since Chris went over the story assignments in the conference room. The moment he'd mentioned the series of articles he and Pony had discussed, she had stiffened next to him and it sounded like she'd sucked in her breath in surprise. He couldn't tell if it was good-surprise or bad-surprise. Standing here in the rain, inches away from her, he still couldn't tell. He thought he knew her real well, even written that in his paper, but now he wasn't so sure. Maybe it had all been his imagination - their connection an illusion manufactured by his brain.

Straightening his shoulders, he looked her in the eye. "Yeah, I'm gonna write about it." He tried to keep his voice even, not make it confrontational. He wanted her to understand why he had to write it. He figured that she was one of the people who would get it - at least that's what he would have thought a year ago, before she decided to ignore him and act like he didn't exist.

"Do you really think that's such a good idea? I mean, everything is finally settling down, getting back to normal." She sounded kind of angry, maybe a little sad; and he figured her reaction back at the newspaper had actually been bad-surprise.

"Don't you get it - normal is the problem," he said earnestly. "Normal is what let all of this happen in the first place."

Now it was her turn to look down at the ground and he felt a stab of guilt. "Cherry, you said that things are rough all over. People just don't see it - especially adults. Maybe a couple of people will read the story and see the world the way it really is."

She looked back up, her eyes were watery and he remembered the way she looked the last time they'd had a real conversation, the day of the rumble. She'd been close to tears then, too, and it did something funny to his stomach. He didn't know how to explain it.

"Look at it this way - it's the Saturday edition, the smallest issue of the week. Plus, it's two pages buried behind the movie reviews and the entertainment schedule for the senior center. Plus, it's all written by high school kids. Five, maybe ten people tops are gonna read it."

Laughing, she swiped a hand across her eyes, stopping her tears before they started. "Thanks a lot, Pony. I was hoping at least twenty people were going to read my in depth article about miniskirts."

Behind them, the city bus rumbled by, passing the stop that was a block away. "Oh, no. I made you miss the bus," Cherry said, her voice laced with concern.

Pony just shrugged. "There'll be another one in an hour. I'm in no hurry to get home anyway." As if on cue, the rain started coming down harder and they both started to laugh.

"I can give you a ride home." She motioned to her red Sting-Ray, parallel parked along the sidewalk and he briefly imagined himself in the passenger seat, pulling up in front of his house. It was such a cool car, but the guys would never let him live it down.

Shaking his head mournfully, he said, "Thanks anyway, but I'll just head to the library. There are a couple of books I wanted to check out anyway." The library was across the street and he realized that missing the bus would delay his getting home - delay talking to Darry about his paper. He figured that maybe this was all a blessing in disguise.

Cherry looked doubtful. "If you say so …," she said as Pony stepped out from under the umbrella and headed toward the crosswalk.

"Pony," she stopped him again, "if I need some help with the article, would you mind if I gave you a call?"

Pony's stomach did a weird somersault thing and he smiled. "Sure, anytime."

* * *

When Pony got home three hours later, Darry was out on the porch, sitting on the old bench. He was hunched over, his elbows resting on his thighs, his fingers loosely interlocked as though he was about to pray or had just finished. He was staring straight ahead, unblinking. 

Pony cautiously walked up the stairs, his legs growing heavier with each step. He stopped at the top and turned to look behind him, trying see if he could tell just what it was his brother was staring at. Either he was real interested in the leaf curling on the railing, or he could see inside Mrs. Murphy's house and was watching her vacuum in her rollers and shapeless housedress. Pony couldn't decide which and settled on neither.

After about a minute, Darry slowly blinked and looked over at his brother, as though he'd just realized he was there.

Pony's shoulders were burning from carrying the stack of books he'd borrowed. He balanced them on the railing, relieved to have a place to sit them down. Shoving his hands in his pockets, trying to look relaxed, he rocked back on his heels. "So," he said, a look of expectation on his face. It felt like a showdown - who would mention the essay first.

"So," Darry repeated, his face blank, expressionless.

Pony couldn't take the anticipation any longer. He had to know if his brother hated it, hated him. "Did you read it?"

At first, Darry didn't say anything and Pony felt dread settle in his stomach. He screwed up, he knew it. He should have shoved the notebook deep into the back of his closet where no one would ever find it. Pried up the floor boards under his bed, burying the book and those words where the light couldn't reach them. Maybe he should of just tossed it into a fire, watched it burn - it certainly would have been a fitting end, considering everything that had happened. The last thing he should have done with it was show it to anyone close to him. Darry was right - sometimes he just didn't use his head.

Still not saying anything, Darry moved over on the bench, making room. Getting the hint, Pony sat next to his brother, feeling a mixture of terror and anticipation.

"First of all," Darry started carefully. His voice was steady, but Pony noticed he was wringing his hands - something he'd never seen Darry do before. "I read it. It was terrific, Ponyboy. You would have made Mom and Dad so proud."

Ponyboy smiled, he resisted the urge to collapse back in his seat in relief . He knew there was more coming, there had to be - he could hear it in Darry's voice.

"But …," he started for him, wanting to get it over with.

"But … I just wish you'd trust me enough to come and talk to me. You shouldn't suffer in silence 'cause I come down hard on you about everything. I shouldn't just find out how you feel about things because you needed to write something for school."

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just kinda rough, ya know. I'm afraid I'll say the wrong thing, cause a fight or something," Pony tried to explain, the words tripping over one another. _Gosh, this is so much easier to write on paper_, he thought.

Darry threw an arm around his shoulders. "Ya know, I'm figurin' all this out as I go. It's not like Mom and Dad left behind an instruction book," Darry admitted and Pony didn't say anything. That was the first time he'd heard Darry say anything like that - admit to not knowing everything.

It was good to know Superman wasn't perfect. Of course, that also meant Superman's brother should probably realize he wasn't completely without faults, too. All those arguments hadn't been one-sided.

Pony gave a crooked smile. "I guess I'm not making it that easy, huh?"

Darry ruffled his hair, messing it up. "Well, now that you mention it, kiddo …"

"Hey, where's Soda?" Pony asked, lightheartedly pushing his brother away before he could get him into a headlock, which was what normally followed an arm around the shoulders.

"He's inside with Steve, reading your story. I figured you wouldn't mind," Darry said.

"Nah, you're the one I was worried about," Pony admitted and Darry laughed. Suddenly, Steve opened the screen door and stepped out onto the porch. He was stony faced and Pony realized he had more to fear than Darry reading his story.

"Kid, do you really think I hate you?" Steve asked in his usual, direct tone.

"Well …" Pony began slowly.

"Of course I don't hate you. Where in the hell would you get a dumb idea like that? Damn kids and their stupid ideas," he grumbled as went back inside, letting the door swing shut behind him.

Pony looked at Darry and raised an eyebrow.

Darry simply shrugged and said, "Don't look at me."

"Man, what's he like when he _does_ hate someone?" Pony asked with a grin and they both burst out in laughter.

* * *

O 

O

O

_A/N - The title I gave Pony's theme - "A Different Sunset" - is the title S.E. Hinton originally gave The Outsiders. I thought it would be fun to include it here._

_Thanks again for all the great reviews._


	31. Chapter 31

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 31**

Maybe if he stared hard enough at the book she would think he hadn't heard her. Maybe she would think she was interrupting and leave him alone. Maybe --.

"Johnny," Sarah said, "did you hear my question?"

Mentally, he cringed, but he tried to adopt a confused look so she wouldn't catch on that he was uncomfortable.

"Huh?" he said, furrowing his brow as he kept his eyes trained on the textbook in front of him. He'd read the definition of cellular mitosis at least five times now and was pretty sure he couldn't explain it if his life depended on it. One more time couldn't hurt.

They were sitting at the kitchen table. Johnny was doing schoolwork and Sarah was just killing time after helping her mom plant flowers in the garden. He liked having her around. Growing up, he'd always wondered what it would be like to have an older brother or sister. He figured he would have been lucky to end up with a sister like Sarah. She talked to him like one of the guys, like Soda or Pony. She seemed to really value his opinion and want to know how things were going, if he had any problems, or if he just wanted to talk. She was cool. Of course, her ease around him sometimes brought about situations like this one. Not actually having an older sister made it kind of difficult to know how to talk to someone who had basically become one overnight.

Feeling her eyes on him, he forced himself to look up. She was chewing on her bottom lip - a habit that made her look younger and vulnerable.

Leaning forward, like she was telling him something top secret, she said, "Is Darry seeing anyone?"

"D-Darry Curtis?" he asked, trying to pretend he didn't know who she was talking about. He hadn't realized how bad he was at stalling until just now.

She sighed a sigh that sounded kind of amused and exasperated at the same time. "No, _Darry Queen_. Just how many Darry's do you know?"

"Just wanted to make sure who you meant," Johnny shrugged, returning his attention to the book. He kept reading - the cell stuff still didn't make any sense; it made even less when he skimmed over the words without actually reading them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sarah narrow her eyes and he got a little nervous - he'd seen that look before. He wasn't going to get out of answering her question. First Two-Bit and now Sarah - he wondered when he'd become the designated go-to guy for relationship advice.

She cleared her throat, and he carefully placed the textbook on the table, taking a moment to mark his page with a piece of paper before closing it. He was about to put the cap on his pen when she cleared her throat again and he gave in, finally meeting her gaze.

"You aren't going to make me ask a third time, are you?"

"No?" He hadn't meant for his voice to rise at the end and it wound up sounding like a question. Her answer was silent but it spoke volumes - a single raised eyebrow.

"I don't think so … I don't think Darry's seein' anyone …" he said slowly, his voice trailing off.

The change was immediate - a smile spread across her face and her cheeks colored like she was blushing. "Really?"

"Um … I'm pretty sure?" He did that question thing again and winced, but Sarah didn't seem to notice.

She leaned forward in her chair, an excited gleam in her eye and Johnny had to fight the urge to back his chair away from the table. As it was, he had casually placed his right hand on the wheel in case he had to make a quick escape. "So," she started, "what type of woman does he usually date? What is he interested in? What does he like?"

"Darry Curtis?" He hadn't really meant to ask it again; and he certainly hadn't meant to ask it in such a disbelieving tone.

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Well … don't you guys hate each other? You're always arguing."

"We don't argue," she explained with a wry look. "It's more like we have spirited conversations."

"Right." _Whatever you say_, he silently added.

"So …" she said, evidently still eager for answers.

He shrugged. "I don't really know. Basically, Darry takes care of Pony and Soda. He works two jobs and he likes sports - football especially. He's probably the strongest guy I know and he's always the toughest guy in a rumble."

"Toughest guy in a rumble?" Sarah repeated and Johnny nodded, pleased with his description.

"Well, that's certainly good to know," she said. Johnny could have sworn he heard her mutter something under her breath and it sounded like, "Boys."

* * *

"Jeez, kid - next she'll be askin' you to pass Darry notes in class, or somethin'," Two-Bit said with a laugh as took a sip of his root beer float. 

Sarah had finally given up on hassling any useful information out of Johnny when Two-Bit and his sister, Sabrina, came over to hang out. It wasn't a moment too soon, as far as Johnny was concerned. Two-Bit seemed surprised when Johnny suggested they go out for lunch. He rarely volunteered to go out in public unless he absolutely had to, but he was half-afraid Sarah would start in on Two-Bit next. He could just imagine the wild stories Two-Bit would make up on Darry's behalf. _Two-Bit Mathews - Matchmaker _was probably something the world didn't need.

The Tasty Freeze was packed - what with the muggy heat and everyone in a five-mile radius apparently needing an ice cream cone at the exact same moment. They lucked out though, grabbing an outside table that was toward the back, away from the crush of people.

"I think it's so romantic," Sabrina said with a sigh, propping her chin in her hand as she chewed absentmindedly on her straw. She had a faraway look in her eyes - kind of like that starry-eyed thing girls always got in the movies whenever Elvis strolled by.

"Maybe Sarah thinks Darry is _dreamy_." Two-Bit fluttered his eyelashes and Johnny almost choked on his cheeseburger.

Sabrina didn't realize her big brother was making fun of her. "Do you think so?" The ten-year-old sighed again and Johnny almost laughed that time. He didn't mean to - he didn't want to hurt the kid's feelings, but it was pretty funny.

"Oh, I _know_ so," Two-Bit continued, bating his sister. "Ya know - it's kinda like how you feel about Johnny here."

"Keeeeith!" Sabrina exclaimed. In her embarrassment, she accidentally knocked over her cherry coke, sending ice and soda everywhere. The world seemed to stop in that moment and Johnny was afraid of what was going to happen next. Her cheeks flushed a deep pink that clashed with her hair and it looked like her bottom lip was trembling. Johnny felt a panic start to build in his chest - she was going to bawl, he knew it. He quickly grabbed some napkins and was trying to help her clean up the mess. He gave her a crooked smile, but she didn't notice - she wouldn't even look at him.

"_Nice_, Two-Bit," he said, fighting the urge to throw the dripping napkins at his grinning friend.

"Aw, Runt - Johnny knows I was just kidding," Two-Bit said as he stood up and dug into his pocket, pulling out some change. "Here ya go, buy yourself another coke and maybe some candy."

She reached out blindly to grab the coins, her eyes never leaving the ground. Shoulders slumped, feet dragging; she made her way over to the long line to wait her turn. After a minute or two, another girl walked up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. They apparently knew each other and it wasn't long before Sabrina was giggling and talking a mile-a-minute.

"So, what have you found out about our little mystery?" Two-Bit asked excitedly, pulling Johnny's attention away from the kid.

"What?"

"You remember - our mystery. The guy. In the picture. The mystery." Two-Bit was on the edge of his seat, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

"Um, I haven't found out anything," Johnny said slowly.

Two-Bit looked disappointed. "What do ya mean you haven't found out anything? You ain't holding up your end of the investigation, man."

"I didn't know we were investigatin' anything," he said as he took a bite of a French fry.

"Come on - don't you wanna know who that guy is? Isn't it eatin' away at you?"

Johnny grinned and shook his head. "Nah, but it seems to be buggin' you enough for the two of us."

"Today," Two-Bit said abruptly. "Today would have been perfect. Tom was at work. Mary was out in the garden. You had Sarah all to yourself. You could have asked her about it then. Man - talk about a missed opportunity."

"You want to know so badly - you ask her. I ain't asking anyone about it."

"Why the hell not?"

Johnny was thoughtful for a moment and then said, "What if it's somethin' bad? There's gotta be a reason nobody talks about him and I don't wanna be the one to bring it up."

"So what do you suggest we do?" Two-Bit asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms defiantly.

"The library." A young female voice answered, full of confidence. Sabrina was standing behind Johnny's chair and had evidently heard part of the conversation.

"Library?" Two-Bit echoed and Johnny groaned - Sabrina's encouragement was not something they needed right now.

"Yeah - you can look stuff up, duh," she said, gnawing on a piece of red licorice and shaking her head like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

Two-Bit was nodding. "Yeah … we can compile facts. Do some research. Dig up the truth. Good plan. Definitely a good plan." He was practically talking to himself at this point, a manic gleam in his eyes.

Grabbing his car keys off the table, he stood up suddenly. "You ready to roll, kid?"

Johnny was working on a half a plate of fries and was just about to reach for one, but he didn't get a chance. Without waiting for an answer, Two-Bit grabbed the handles to his chair and started to steer him toward the parking lot with Sabrina trailing behind carrying a bag of candy and a cup of soda.

* * *

Roughly an hour later, the trio found themselves stationed at a round table in the back of the library, surrounded by scattered newspapers. Johnny was bored out of his mind, flipping through page after page, searching for the name Martin. That was all they had to go on - no first name, just the last. At least they had managed to narrow it down to newspapers from last year. 

On the ride over, Two-Bit kept bombarding him with questions, trying to get him to remember something. Johnny figured it was years of being taken into police custody and getting questioned by scores of cops that had honed Two-Bit's interrogation skills. Two-Bit looked especially triumphant when Johnny finally remembered something worthwhile. When those two ladies at the hardware store were talking about Tom and Mary they had mentioned last year and alluded to something bad happening. Well at least it was place to start - narrowing it down to only 365 newspapers to go through instead of a few thousand. Of course, it was still like searching for a needle in haystack and the air-conditioning in the place was the only thing keeping Johnny from calling the whole thing off.

Despite being the one with the brilliant idea in the first place, Sabrina had gotten distracted fairly early on and was now reading a book she had found on the shelves. It was a Nancy Drew mystery and Johnny found himself wishing Nancy were here to help.

He picked up the next paper in the pile and unfolded it. His breath caught in his throat and his eyes grew wide. He couldn't look away. His brain screamed at him to put the paper down, to close it and toss it aside. But he couldn't. It was like his whole body, not just his legs, had become paralyzed.

A picture of Bob Sheldon was plastered across the front page. Handsome, with a cocky grin and confident set to his shoulders, Johnny could see the perfect All-American guy that the article made him out to be. There was a picture of the fountain - it was in black and white, of course, but Johnny's mind painted it with the red he could see as clearly as though it had all happened just moments ago.

"Does it hurt?" Sabrina voice broke through the red haze and brought him back to the present. He dropped the paper and pushed it aside.

"What?" Johnny asked, his mind somewhere else. She was looking down and he followed her gaze. She was staring at his arm and he realized the sleeve of his shirt had ridden up - or he had pushed it up out of habit, not thinking. His scars were ugly - roping over his forearms, around his neck and down his back in an angry patchwork of pink, white and red. He usually forgot they were there until something reminded him.

"Oh, uh … not really," he answered as he self-consciously pushed his sleeves down, covering the damage.

"Did it hurt?" He hadn't realized how direct kids could be. It was a little disconcerting. The only one who ever asked him about his burns was Mary and that was because she had to make sure everything was healing the way it was supposed to.

"Yeah, a lot," he admitted.

"But not anymore?" She worried her bottom lip, twisting a lock of hair with her finger.

"No, not anymore," he assured her, forcing himself to smile.

"Good," she said simply and returned her attention to the book she was reading, her legs swinging in the chair, not quite reaching the ground.

"Aha!" Two-Bit suddenly exclaimed. Sabrina jumped, dropping her book, but Johnny didn't react. Two-Bit scooted his chair over to Johnny and pointed out the article he had found. It was in the obituaries and Johnny didn't want to look - he didn't want to know.

Realizing Johnny wasn't going to read it on his own, Two-Bit folded the paper and, clearing his throat, he began to read out loud. Johnny caught bits and pieces of it - "Daniel Martin … Son of Thomas and Mary Martin, brother of Sarah Martin … 22 years old … Star athlete at Will Rogers … Honor Student … College … Undisclosed causes … Funeral arrangements …"

It was pretty much what he feared all along.

Johnny backed his chair away from the table. "Let's get out of here," he said quietly.

* * *

_O_

_O_

_O_

_A/N - Thanks again for all the great reviews. The next chapter will be a Dally one ... I promise. Throw a little bit of Tim in there and it should be fun, or in the very least - interesting._


	32. Chapter 32

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 32**

Dally shifted uncomfortably, trying not to disturb Sylvia, who was draped across him, pinning him to the bed. The last thing he needed was her waking up - wanting to talk and shit like that. Part of him wished she'd just vanish after they were finished, but she'd tried to guilt him into treating this like a real relationship this time around. He was tempted to tell her where she could put her so called _real relationship_, but he wasn't in the mood for some screeching chick arguing at him for hours on end. Easier just to let her think she was getting her own way - for now, at least. He wouldn't hesitate to stir things up once he'd had enough of her warming his bed whenever he needed it. If his calculations were correct, this particular corner of Tulsa should be seeing one hell of a fight between the two of them in roughly two weeks, three tops.

Sylvia stirred slightly and he froze, watching as her fingers curled against his chest, like talons preparing to sink into his flesh. As it was, the god awful blood red nail polish she wore made it look like she had just made a fresh kill - she probably thought she had him snared, but she was as dumb as she was easy. One nail was hooked around the chain he always wore; poised to snatch the St. Christopher medallion she coveted. She had asked him for it back last night, but he shrugged her off. He knew better this time - fool him once, he's fucked. Fool him twice … whatever. Who gives a shit how the hell that stupid saying goes anyway?

So he laid there, staring at the ceiling as he listened to her breathe and moan in her sleep. Bored with the cracked, tobacco stained view, he looked down at Sylvia and studied her - really took a good hard look at the woman that had shared his bed off and on for the last couple of years. Somehow, she looked older than he remembered - like she'd aged ten years while he'd been locked up. He'd like to think it was because she missed him - but it was more likely the Lucky Strikes, Southern Comfort, and revolving door of guys.

There were lines around her mouth that he didn't remember seeing before, dark circles under her eyes that she did a piss-poor job of covering up with makeup, and wrinkles on her forehead that made it look like she was permanently scowling. Her hair was a fried, yellowy straw color that rivaled the ridiculous dye job Johnny gave Pony while they were on the run. It used to flow around her shoulders, loose and shiny - at least he thought it used to. Now it just sort of fell in a dry frizz that looked thin on top and haggard at the bottom. She looked tired and looking at her made him feel tired, too.

Sighing, he went back to studying the ceiling. At least that didn't make him feel like hurling himself off a cliff.

Without warning, the door to the make-shift apartment flung open and Dally realized there was something worse than a broad talking his ear off at the break of dawn. Tim Shepard was standing in the doorway with a look on his face that was a cross between an angry badger and a pissed off pit bull. Dally would have laughed if he hadn't been so startled to see him standing there.

Sylvia woke with a start, bolting up in bed, naked as the day she was born. It was a beat or two before she realized there was a third person in the room - a beat or two before she realized she needed to grab the sheet or something to cover up. Dally wondered why she even bothered - he was pretty sure Tim was one of the guys she was screwing behind his back during his frequent trips to jail. It wasn't like it was something Shepard hadn't seen before. Hell, Dally would lay money on it being something at least half the neighborhood had seen before. Even good ol' Buck was a likely candidate.

"What the fuck do you want?" he was about to ask, but Sylvia beat him to it.

"Well?" she demanded, one hand on her hip while the other clasped the threadbare sheet to her chest.

Tim didn't say anything. He blatantly ran his gaze down her body, his stance bored and indifferent. "None of your damn business."

Dally reached over and grabbed her clothes from the floor. They had thrown them there last night in their haste. He grimaced at the smell of stale cigarette smoke and cheap beer that still clung to them as he tossed them to her. "Here ya go, babe. Why don't you make yourself useful or something? See if Buck has anything in his kitchen for breakfast."

"Make your own goddamn breakfast," she sneered as she struggled into her wrinkled clothes, not even attempting to shield herself from Tim's view. She was muttering all sorts of curse words and inventive things to do with his anatomy under her breath and Dally couldn't hold back his grin. She was something else, he had to admit.

"What the hell are you grinning at?" she snapped and his grin turned into a full fledged smile. Her red skirt was crooked, her blouse was buttoned wrong and strained precariously over her chest - eventually those buttons would lose that battle - and she was wearing only one shoe, the other was dangling from her hand. It was at that moment that he remembered what drew him to her in the first place and he forgot for a moment how tired and worn out she seemed. She was full of fire and vinegar and he thrived on that.

He didn't answer her and she leaned forward, balancing with one hand on the bed as she put on the other shoe. "You're a moron, you know that?" she said, shaking her head.

"Remember, I like my eggs over easy - just like my chicks."

It was her turn to not answer. Kneeling down, wobbling slightly on her heels, she scooped up his discarded jeans and proceeded to fling them at his head. He easily ducked them and still grinning, added, "Oh, and make sure you butter the toast on both sides."

She snatched the pack of cigarettes off the nightstand and sauntered past Tim, who was still standing in the doorway with his arms crossed as he silently watched their exchange. Sylvia stopped just as their paths crossed and she leaned into him, brushing his arm with her chest. She leisurely ran a crimson tipped finger down his cheek, tracing his scar. His eyes narrowed and she leaned in closer, pressing herself suggestively against him. She smiled slowly and said in a smoky whisper, "You're an asshole."

Tim's slow smile mimicked hers and his eyes followed her out the door and down the hall, her heels clicking rhythmically on the wood floor. She was laughing - a throaty, sexy laugh that made both guys smile.

"Don't forget the coffee," Dally yelled after her, pulling on his jeans while Tim was distracted.

"Go to hell," she yelled back, her steps growing fainter.

Dally reached over and pulled open the drawer to the nightstand, grabbing a fresh pack of cigarettes. "So, what the hell do you want in the middle of the fucking morning?" he asked as he lit his first cancer stick of the day.

Tim pulled a folded up newspaper from his back pocket and tossed it to Dally. "This is why I'm here in the middle of the fucking morning."

Dally opened the paper and read the headline. "String of Robberies. Police Suspect Local Gangs."

Silently, Dally read the first couple of paragraphs and shrugged. "So? They ain't got nothin'. It's not like we weren't expecting them to notice. The fuzz are stupid but they ain't complete morons."

Tim stood there, his face blank and hard to read. "Turn to page five."

Rolling his eyes, Dally opened the paper and turned to the page Tim directed him to. The top article caught his eye and he looked up, his eyes wide with fear. "Oh no, man - Davy Jones is cuter than Tom Jones. My world is shattered. Thank God you woke me up to tell me that."

"Keep reading," Tim said steadily.

He scanned the page, trying to figure out why Shepard was so interested in teen fashion tips and dating advice. He probably skipped over the name three times before he noticed it. "Hey, Pony has a story in here. Cool," he said with an approving nod.

"Yeah, real cool. It's about you."

Dally squinted, confused. "What?"

"You. He wrote about last year and all that shit that happened. So there's a story about us robbin' houses on the front page and five pages later there's a story about you and your friends, killing Socs and saving little kids. Really flying under the radar there, Winston."

"It don't mean nothin'."

"The boss doesn't see it that way. Any attention is bad attention. A series of articles in the Tribune tends to cause some concern."

Dally snorted derisively. "Ya know - I'm beginning to think this guy doesn't exist - that you made him up. I'm beginning to think that you're runnin' the show and don't want anyone to know about it."

"Well, you'd be wrong."

Dally exhaled a cloud of smoke as he spoke. "Prove it. I want to meet this guy. Otherwise - I'm gonna think it's you and your idiot brother pulling the strings."

Tim looked angry. Dally half-expected him to hit him and wasn't surprised to feel a twinge of disappointment when he didn't. He hadn't had a good fight since getting out of the cooler and he was itching for a good brawl. As it was, this was the longest he and Shepard had gone without at least making an attempt to kill one another.

"You'll meet the guy when I say you'll meet the guy. Now isn't the time - we've got a job to do tonight."

* * *

Dallas didn't recognize the house they were parked outside of. Tim and Curly had done all of the scouting on this one. Dally wasn't sure why; but it saved him from having to sit in a car for hours on end with the two of them, so he wasn't about to complain. 

The house was dark and the driveway was empty aside from their van they had just parked there moments ago. The dark green van had the name of a bogus extermination company on the side and Curly was the lucky guy who got to carry the clip board with the fake work orders on it. So far, they'd pulled three jobs and they hadn't needed their cover story, but it never hurt to be prepared. There were two other guys in the van whose names Dally hadn't bothered on learning - he couldn't even remember if Tim bothered to introduce them.

The plan was simple - fill the van with as much stuff as quickly as possible. So far, it had worked like a charm - well, for the most part.

"Are we ready?" Curly asked in a nasally whine and Dally glanced in the rearview mirror, catching the kid's reflection. His nose was bandaged and both eyes were black and blue. The last job had proved a bit tricky when Curly lost his footing in the dark and tumbled down the stairs - his nose meeting Dally's elbow with a sickening crunch. Tim hadn't believed Dally when he tried to explain what happened - certain he had tried to beat up his baby brother. Curly was embarrassed and didn't try very hard to correct Tim on his assumptions.

Tim did quick work on the lock on the back door and they poured into the house. Dally immediately headed for the stairs. He and Curly took the bedrooms while the other three worked downstairs. In the master bedroom, he pulled open the top drawer in the dresser and let out a low whistle. Even in the dark, he could see the diamonds sparkling, beckoning him. He grabbed a pillowcase from the bed and poured the jewelry into it, shocked at how heavy a bag of necklaces and rings could feel. He found some cash that he _accidentally_ pocketed, keeping it for himself. He figured the other guys did the same thing - if not, then they were complete idiots.

He met Curly in the hall. The younger hoodlum had his arms full. "I'm headin' down. Third door on the left is the only one I didn't get to," he explained as he gingerly made his way down the stairs.

They had originally planned on only hitting the parents' bedrooms during their jobs, but quickly realized that the kids had rooms full of valuables, too. Dally couldn't believe all the crap these kids had. Some of them even had their own televisions and Dally really relished taking those.

Entering the room, he could barely see anything - very little light was coming in the windows, but he could sense it was a chick's room. It just felt … girly. He bumped into the dresser and reached out to steady himself. A bunch a stuff fell over and he instinctively grabbed what felt like a picture frame. Suddenly, a light filled the bedroom from outside - headlights tracking across the room and then coming to a stop.

"Shit," he whispered as he realized the car had stopped outside the house. He looked down at the frame in his hand just as the lights turned off. It was only a second, but he saw enough.

"I am going to fucking kill you, Shepard," he said as he dropped the picture back onto the dresser and headed for the stairs. He heard shuffling downstairs as the other guys scrambled to leave.

He was disoriented when he made it to the landing and it took him a second to get his bearings. Remembering that the door was through the kitchen, he headed toward the back of the house.

What happened next was kind of a jumble. He couldn't pinpoint exactly which came first - the sound of breaking glass, the blinding pain, or the complete darkness. All he knew was that one minute he was navigating his way through a strange house with a pillowcase full of stolen jewelry and the next minute he was lying on the ground, blood pouring from the back of his head, and shards of glass littering the ground around him.

Strangely - just before he passed out - he could have sworn he heard a disembodied voice mutter, "Dallas Winston … goddamn it."


	33. Chapter 33

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 33**

"You're not supposed to be here," he slurred, squinting up from the floor, a bright light from above burrowing into his skull like a bullet. His mind was moving like Two-Bit's car - in fits and starts. Her name was on the edge of his brain, but he couldn't grasp it. It was something silly, like a fruit or vegetable. For some reason that struck him as really funny and he laughed, causing a bolt of pain to streak across the back of his head.

"_I'm _not supposed to be here?" she asked hotly, her brow furrowing in anger. He didn't answer, just stared mutely at the two redheaded visions that swam and swirled before his eyes. That didn't seem right. He was pretty sure she didn't have a twin. _Although_, he mused, _that would certainly make things interesting_.

"You've got some nerve, Dallas Winston," she said, throwing her thick hair over her shoulder as she began to pace.

From his vantage point, flat on his back on the cold marble floor, he had an interesting view of her legs and her skirt as it twirled around her calves. There was probably less than six inches of leg exposed, but something about that bare skin grabbed his attention and wouldn't it let go. Sylvia let it all spill out like the dessert case at a cheap diner and he liked that. He didn't need to use his imagination, which was fine by him. Never in a million years would he have thought he'd be turned on by the sight of prissy bobby socks, saddle shoes and a plaid skirt Tim's grandma wouldn't have been caught dead in. Damn broad must have hit him harder than he thought.

The pacing continued and now she was talking to herself, muttering under her breath. He could only make out one word, but one word was all it took. _Police._

"Shit," he groaned as he sat up quickly - too quickly. The room spun like one of those rides at the fair that spun around … in a circle … whatever, he couldn't think of the stupid name. The edges of his vision started to darken and shrink; his stomach lurched, threatening to spill its contents all over her pristine white floor. Serve her right if he puked all over her perfect house - she'd really fucked him up. _Score one for Cherry Valance_, he thought.

"Cherry, your name's Cherry," he said out loud without meaning to. Startled, she stopped wearing a groove into the floor long enough to look down at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," he mumbled with a grimace. Reaching up, he gingerly probed the growing lump on the back of his head. It felt sticky and slick and he wasn't surprised to see blood coating his fingers when he brought his hand back. "What the hell did you hit me with?"

"A vase, a very expensive vase." She looked pissed, like it was his fault she hit him with the damn thing. Arms crossed, toe tapping, she seemed to be waiting for something - like she actually thought he would apologize. _Not in this lifetime_.

"Hate to break it to ya, doll - but your _very expensive _vase shattered like a fucking fifty-cent bottle of beer." He shook his head tentatively, shards of clear glass dislodged from his hair, catching the light as they fell to the floor.

"That's only because your head is thicker than a brick wall," she said with annoyance. Dally laughed sharply, she certainly wasn't afraid of him - or she was really good a hiding it.

Changing the subject to the one he was afraid she would change it to, she said, "Just what were you doing in my house in the middle of the night?"

"Exterminating … stuff?"

Rolling her eyes, she knelt down and picked the abandoned pillowcase up off the floor. She opened it, studied it for a second, then flung it at his chest. Instinctively, he caught it but didn't open it. He knew what was inside and now it was covered with his smeared, bloody fingerprints.

"You're a lousy liar," she said as she walked over to the phone hanging on the wall.

"So I've been told," he said to himself, watching with growing alarm as she picked up a piece of paper from the table by the phone and grabbed the receiver, ready to dial. He tried to stand up, but only made it to his knees before nausea threatened to topple him.

"Wait," he said weakly, maybe a little more weakly than he truly felt - but he was wounded and she's a girl - girls dig that shit, right? He tried to adopt his most pleading, innocent expression as she turned to look at him. "Can't we talk this over? There ain't no reason to go gettin' the cops involved."

Her eyes softened a little bit - she was falling for it. _Sucker, _he thought; but it was a short lived victory.

"You try to rob my house and you want to _talk it over?_" she said incredulously, her eyes narrowing and jaw clenching as she turned her back on him. She was muttering to herself again - this time he made out the words _stupid_ and _idiot_. She dialed the number quickly and with purpose, not making a single mistake.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Dally lurched up on wobbly legs and made his way over to her, trying to snatch the phone away. She quickly angled away from him, driving her elbow into his face, splitting his lip.

"Goddamn it," he grunted in pain as he doubled over, clutching his mouth, his lip throbbing in time to the pain pulsing through his head. He could hear the phone ringing on the other end and he felt a dread wash over him. She was actually going through with it - she was calling the cops. He closed his eyes and an image flashed before his eyes - a barred door sliding shut, a metal clang echoing into oblivion. He couldn't go back there - not now, anyway. _Shit, _he thought, _when did I turn into such a fucking coward?_

Slowly, he sank back to the floor, his back propped up against the wall beneath the phone. He should make a run for it, he really should. But he couldn't see straight and it wasn't like she wouldn't tell the cops who he was. The way this night was going, they'd have him arrested and locked up within the hour. Might as well make it easy for them. He kept his eyes closed, willing unconsciousness to return.

"Hello, is Ponyboy Curtis there? May I speak to him please? Yes, I know it's late. I'm really sorry, but it's kind of important." At first he thought his rattled brain was playing tricks on him. The broad was asking for Pony. What the hell was he doing with the fuzz? Confused, he opened his eyes and watched her as she spoke quietly, her fingers twisting the cord into a knot as she waited for the person on the other end to do her bidding.

"Hello, I'm sorry to bother you so late. Well, this may not make much sense, but …" she turned just then and looked straight at Dally, a determined, almost mischievous gleam in her eyes, "there's some trash here that needs picking up."

* * *

"Gee, sweetheart - does this mean there's a chance for us after all? I always knew you had the hots for me." 

She was at the sink, running the water and basically ignoring him. She returned, carrying a damp towel which she proceeded to drop in his lap. He grabbed it and grinned slyly up at her.

"Anybody ever tell you that you should quit while you're ahead?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Now clean yourself up, you're bleeding like a stuck pig."

He moaned dramatically as he pressed the cloth to the throbbing wound. "Ya know, I'm feeling kinda faint here. You hurt me real bad - I may die right here on your floor."

"We can only hope," she said under her breath, but he ignored her.

"Maybe you can doctor me and save my life. I'm up for a little mouth-to-mouth. How about you?"

"The only help you'll get from me is another vase to the back of the head. Save me from having to listen to you for God knows how long until your friends show up." She'd made her way into the foyer and was impatiently looking out one of the windows that flanked the heavy oak door.

"What did you call them for anyway? Didn't you read Pony's article? Me and the Curtis brothers don't exactly roll in the same circles anymore." He felt a twinge of regret when he said it, but he pushed it aside. He didn't belong with guys like that - he was a hood, plain and simple. They were just holding him back, making him weak.

"Would you prefer I call your new friends? The ones that left you _dying_ on the floor while they ran for it, leaving behind a van full of stolen goods and you to take the rap? I'm sure they'd be a huge help." She'd made her way back into the kitchen, but all of her attention was on the front of the house - waiting for the tell-tale sign of approaching headlights.

"Rap? Man, you talk like some bad cop show. 'Sides, I still don't get why you didn't call the fuzz in the first place."

"Trust me - I'm asking myself the same question."

"Got an answer?"

"If I come up with one - I'll let you know."

Dally nodded thoughtfully, a sly grin tugging at his mouth as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, feeling where her elbow had broken the skin.

"Face it, doll - you dig me," he said with a wink.

* * *

It was twenty long minutes before the old truck finally pulled up into her driveway. Ponyboy was the first at the door and she was relieved to see him. She almost gave him a hug before catching herself. 

"Thank goodness you're here. I was ready to go get my daddy's shotgun and put us both out of our misery," she said with a forced grin, wrapping her arms around herself. Pony stood there silently, looking a little alarmed and maybe a bit confused.

An older boy, a man really, stepped up behind him and she assumed it was his brother, Darry. She'd seen Sodapop at the DX and would recognize him in an instant - he was a hard one to miss. She figured he must have stayed behind while the other two came to collect Dallas. The truck was probably a tight fit with three boys, it would have been downright claustrophobic with four.

"Hello," Darry said, his voice deep and formal. Cherry remembered the way Pony described Darry that night at the movies - how he was hard and mean. The guy in front of her sort of fit his description - stoic was perhaps a word she would have used. He seemed older than he truly was and a little tired. Of course, she reasoned, she'd basically pulled him out of bed in the middle of the night, anyone would look tired.

"Hello," she replied with a kind smile. "Thank you so much. I didn't know what to do. I was staying at Marcia's this week, but decided I needed a break and came home tonight. My parents are away on a cruise and aren't due back for a few days."

"You could have called the cops," Pony said steadily as he looked her in the eye. His gaze was unsettling and Cherry looked down at the ground, feigning an interest in her mother's prize rose bushes.

"I could have, you're right. But that felt wrong, somehow. Like I owed him one pass or something. I don't know why," she said with a shrug as she nervously pushed her hair behind her ear.

"I'm going to call the police as soon as you leave. I'll tell them I just got home and scared them off," she assured them. "I don't think they actually took anything - their van is still here ..." she trailed off, realizing she was rambling.

Ponyboy was looking at her intently, like he was trying to see the truth. She wanted to tell him he was wasting his time. She had just as much an idea as to why she didn't turn Dallas in as he did. There was a niggling in the back of her mind and that stupid thing she'd said that night at the movies was like a ghost in her brain, haunting her. _I could fall in love with Dallas Winston. I hope I never see him again, or I will. _How she wished she could take it back.

Seeing Dallas Winston tonight, sprawled out on her floor, unconscious and holding a bag of her mother's jewelry - all she felt was pity. Like he was a dog that kept getting hit on the nose with a rolled up newspaper but never learned any better. Maybe she just didn't feel like wielding the newspaper tonight.

"The cavalry has arrived," a sarcastic voice drawled behind her. Dally was in the hallway, leaning heavily on the wall for support. He looked terrible and she wouldn't be surprised if he passed out again before they got him to the truck. She felt guilty, she couldn't help it. But he didn't deserve her guilt. Heck, he'd probably ridicule her for it. Fact was, he broke into her home; he was nothing more than a common thief.

Darry stepped up, ready to enter the house. His broad shoulders filling the doorway, making her take a step back.

"Come on Dally, let's go home," Darry said, his voice laced with exhaustion, a look of disappointment on his face. "I think you've done enough damage for one night."


	34. Chapter 34

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 34**

"So … exactly how may Socs jumped you back there?"

"Shut up, Pony," Dally groaned as he leaned his head back against the wall. The emergency room was busy, a common occurrence during any hot summer night. There were only so many movies a sane person could see in a three month period without going crazy. People around here got bored easily and had to come up with creative ways to pass the time. Rising temperatures always brought a rise in crime and violence, the evidence of which was scattered throughout the stuffy waiting room.

Pony recognized a couple greasers from town and silently nodded to them in greeting. It looked like they were in a fight; one guy had his hand wrapped in a bloody towel and the other one was holding his ribs like they were busted pretty bad. Ponyboy realized he hadn't been in a bad fight since the rumble last year and neither had any of his friends. Things had been quiet - maybe a little too quiet. _Cue dramatic music, _he thought to himself, admonishing his overactive imagination.

Darry was sitting on the opposite side of Dally, holding a clipboard, trying to fill out his information. Dally wasn't making it easy. "Any allergies?"

"I told you - I don't need to see a fucking doctor. I'm fine," Dally said dully, as though he figured he should put up a fight even though his heart wasn't really in it. Darry didn't respond. They'd already had this conversation the entire drive to the hospital, interrupted only when they had to pull over so that Dally could throw up on the side of the road. Puking definitely didn't help support Dally's side of the argument.

"Is that a 'No' then?" Darry said, clicking the pen and holding it above the box he needed to check off. Dally shrugged and Darry closed his eyes. Pony swore he could hear him counting to ten under his breath.

"They already got all this crap on file. Just leave me in peace, man." One of the lights in the ceiling was flickering, about to go out. A faint crying echoed from one of the exam rooms and Pony felt a shiver race down his spine. He really hated hospitals.

"The nurse said they won't see you if we don't fill this out."

"Good, then let's go. You can drop me off at Buck's," Dally said but he didn't move a muscle. Pony couldn't decide if it was the crummy lighting or the blow to the head, but Dally's coloring was looking alarming close to the institutional green of the wall behind him. He looked terrible.

"Quit starin' at me, kid. You're startin' to creep me out."

Pony sat up a little straighter in his chair and began leafing through the battered magazine he'd snagged off one the tables sprinkled throughout the room. Darry glanced over at him and laughed.

"Aren't you a little old for that?" he asked, shaking his head in amusement.

Pony looked down, realizing what he had actually grabbed - _Highlights_. He grinned, trying to hide his embarrassment. He'd thought he'd picked up _Time_ or _Newsweek_. "Well," he explained, "I, uh, already read _The Ranger Rick _they have. Plus, I dig the puzzles."

"Don't let my gaping head wound get in the way of your exciting conversation," Dally interrupted, leaning forward in his chair, his head hanging until his chin touched his chest. He was holding his forehead, in obvious pain.

"Thought you said you were fine?" Darry countered dryly, but Pony caught the worry that flashed in his brother's eyes.

"Just fill out the stupid form."

* * *

"You have a concussion," the doctor simply stated.

"Gee, ya think?" Dally asked in a mocking tone.

The doctor ignored him and continued on with his speech, saying it in a tired robotic voice that made it sound like he was reading it from cue cards. _A greaser with his head bashed in is probably pretty routine around here_, Ponyboy thought as he sat in the corner of the room on a cold metal stool, aimlessly spinning around like a little kid … or Two-Bit. He couldn't help remembering his own stint in the hospital - well, at least as much of it as he could remember. It was weird knowing there were three days that had been completely wiped from his memory, like they'd never happened. At least Dally didn't have a fever like he did. He'd probably be his old self in a couple of days. Ponyboy couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.

"I want to get some X-Rays to rule out a fracture. We need to clean out the gash and you're going to need stitches," the doctor droned on.

Darry was standing next to the bed like he was Dally's guardian or something, like he was responsible for him. Fact of the matter was, Dally had vanished from their lives. No one had really seen him and when they did it was more like those greasers in the emergency room. A vague nod exchanged, signifying recognition. Maybe a quick word or two, but nothing substantial, nothing real. It was like Dally had died under that streetlight and all that was left was his ghost.

The doctor told them a nurse would be by shortly to take care of the wound and then they'd have to wait their turn for the X-Rays. For some reason, Pony had a feeling the wait wouldn't be a short one. Apparently, Dally realized that, too.

"Go home, Darry. You did your good deed for the day. I'm sure you gotta work in the morning and don't need to be wasting your time stayin' up all night."

"Trust me, it won't be the first time and I'm bettin' it won't be the last," he said as he pulled up a chair and sat down. Pony wasn't stupid, he knew he was talking about him. He hadn't been out past midnight in almost a year, but Darry would never acknowledge that. No, he liked to focus on the "what ifs". What if Pony decides to runaway again? What if Socs jump him again? What if aliens from Mars abduct him from the movies and he's never seen or heard from again? All the worrying got a little draining after a while, but he figured he deserved it after everything he put his brothers through.

"Since we're going to be stuck here for God knows how long, I think it's time you told us exactly what happened tonight." Darry crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair, like he was settling in, preparing for a long story. Pony dragged his foot on the floor, stopping the stool from spinning. He was dizzy for a moment, but all his attention was trained on Dally.

Dally shrugged as he reached over and grabbed his jacket from the foot of the bed. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, striking the match on the medal around his neck. Darry opened his mouth to protest, then shut it, most likely realizing it would fall on deaf ears.

Dally grinned as he took a drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke, the acrid smell mixing with the antiseptic odors of the hospital. "Nothin' happened tonight, man."

Darry and Pony rolled their eyes in unison. If Soda was there, he probably would have done the same thing. "Yeah right," Pony accidentally said out loud, earning a glare from the wounded greaser.

"It was Tim, wasn't it?" Darry asked evenly.

"Yeah, so? Me and him are working together, pullin' a few jobs. No big deal."

"Why her house? Why Cherry's?" Pony found himself asking, not sure where his courage was coming from. Dally scared the crap out of him, and rightly so. But he couldn't get Cherry out of his head, the way she'd looked tonight, arms wrapped around herself as she tried to look strong. She had tried to sound tough on the phone, but he could tell she'd been spooked. That was Dally's fault.

Dally looked straight at him, his expression serious. "I didn't know. I swear, kid. I didn't know."

"Quite a coincidence then," Pony said, crossing his arms, mimicking Darry's hard expression.

Dally didn't say anything for a moment, fiddling with his cigarette and staring at an empty spot on the wall, like he was thinking.

"Coincidence, yeah," he said with a nod, as though everything had just clicked into place. "Shepard knew. Probably thought it'd be funny. Guy has a fucked up sense of humor."

"Which makes him the perfect guy to go into business with," Darry pointed out and it was Dally's turn to roll his eyes.

"How's it up there on that pedestal ya got yourself on, Darrel? Air getting kinda thin?"

Ponyboy sucked in a breath. No one talked to Darry like that, no one. Steve tried once and got floored with one hell of a punch. Darry's jaw clenched almost imperceptibly and that was it. He didn't say anything, but Pony figured he wouldn't forget it any time soon. Dally was lucky he was laid up in a hospital bed.

The reluctant patient ran his fingers through his hair with a grimace. "Where's the damn nurse? I coulda died in here for all they know."

"Did you hurt her?" Pony asked suddenly.

"Huh? The nurse?" Dally asked, confused.

"No, Cherry. Did you hurt her?"

Dally let out a loud burst of laughter. "Good one, kid. _Did I hurt her? _She fuckin' smashed a _very expensive _vase across the back of my head. Maybe she chipped a nail, I dunno. But the only one hurtin' tonight is me."

Dally got a sly look on his face and Pony started to feel apprehension creep up on him.

"She is one scary chick, that's for sure," Dally said, taking a drag on his cigarette. "She didn't call the cops, though. What do you think that means, Pony?"

Ponyboy didn't want to consider what that might mean, though it didn't take a genius to figure it out. He vividly remembered what she said at the Nightly Double - about falling in love with Dally. And the way she described Bob - that he was special, better than everyone else. What a joke. Maybe if he robbed liquor stores or beat up lonely greasers he'd have a chance with her.

The nurse appeared, saving Pony from having to come up with an answer. She looked familiar, but Pony figured that was from all the time he spent visiting Johnny. He'd probably seen every member of the staff at one time or another. Dally, however, looked stricken when she walked into the tiny examination room.

"My, my, my," the nurse drawled slowly as she approached with a wicked looking syringe. "Dallas Winston. My favorite patient."

"Nurse Ratched," he said flatly. "My favorite nurse."

"Robinson," she corrected.

"Whatever."

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

They wanted to keep him overnight, at least that's what the doctor claimed. He didn't put up much of a fight when Dally refused. In fact, he seemed downright relieved that Dallas Winston would be out of their care shortly. Dally had to promise to stay in bed for at least two days and Darry had to promise to wake him up every three hours to keep him from slipping into a coma. 

"Just take me to Buck's," Dally said once they got to the truck.

Darry sighed. He was tired and not in the mood for a fight. "You're coming home with us. End of story."

"They're just exaggerating. I'm fine. I don't need any damn babysitters."

"Dal, you are not fine. You can barely stand up. Drop the tough guy act for one minute and admit you need help. The world is not going to end."

Darry yanked the truck door open, the rusty hinges squealing in protest. "Now get in the damn truck before I hogtie you and throw you in the back. I'm tired and we're going the hell home."

* * *

_O_

O

O

_A/N - Just want to thank everyone again for all the great reviews. I also wanted to add a quick thanks to my friends Gretchen and Michelle. They always read over everything before I post it and their input is invaluable. They also laugh at all the right parts, which is nice_ :)


	35. Chapter 35

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 35**

"Dal, are you in a coma or dead?"

"Fuck off."

"Good enough," Pony mumbled through a huge yawn. He stood there, swaying slightly on his feet. It looked like he didn't even know he was standing in the family room, bugging the hell out of Dally for what must have been the fifth time that night. It was starting to get light out and he could barely make out Ponyboy's silhouette in the cramped room. His hair was sticking up every which way and Dally was sure his eyes were actually closed. Damn kid was sleepwalking.

Darry being Darry, he took the doctor's orders to the extreme and made Ponyboy wake Dally every hour instead of every three. Dally would have almost felt sorry for the kid if it didn't also mean he had to suffer through Darry's overly cautious plan as well. It didn't help that he could hear Darry snoring down the hall. Forgetting for a moment that it was his own damn fault for pulling the two of them into his own circle of hell, Dally found himself cursing the guy over the fact that he got to sleep through the night uninterrupted.

"Pony, go back to bed. I ain't gonna die on your couch," he grumbled.

"Swear."

"What are we, five? Yeah, I swear. Go to bed. You're givin' me a headache."

Instead of following orders, Pony blindly made his way to the recliner and slumped into it. The hinges made a sad creaking noise as he raised the footrest. The springs squeaked in protest as Pony tried to find a comfortable position. Apparently, he was settling in for the remainder of the night, or the rest of the morning. Whatever the hell you called this time of day.

"It's early," Pony stated simply.

"Or late," Dally countered.

"Depends on your point of view, I suppose." Ponyboy failed to stifle another yawn. "Man, guess I won't be goin' to the paper today."

"Read some of your articles," Dally admitted nonchalantly as he crossed his arms behind his head, wincing as he bumped the bandage covering the stitches. "Not bad. Didn't know you missed me so much."

"Didn't know I did 'til I wrote it."

"Well, you shouldn't. I sure as hell don't need some brainy kid hanging around, screwin' everything up."

"Whatever you say, Dal. But I wasn't anywhere around and you got yourself into this mess just fine without me."

"That was all Shepard's doin'," Dally said matter-of -factly, not expecting an argument.

Pony, apparently, had forgotten in the last few months that you just don't contradict Dallas Winston. "Sure, blame it on Tim," he said with a tired laugh.

"You got a death wish or somethin', kid? I said it's Shepard's fault and it is. My head may be bashed in, but my fists work just fine, so I'd watch it if I were you."

"Be a great payback for us coming to your rescue."

Dally closed his eyes and pictured his fist going through the wall. That calmed him somewhat. "I didn't need rescuing," he ground out.

"Geez, Dal - used to be you could take a joke."

"Let me know when you tell one," he said, rolling over with his back to the room, ending the conversation. "Go to sleep. You gotta wake me up in an hour."

* * *

The next time Dallas woke up the sun was streaming through the windows, the smell of burning pancakes filled the house, and Two-Bit had just crash landed on the couch - right on top of him. 

"Jesus Christ," he barked in surprise as he pushed Two-Bit onto the floor.

Two-Bit was sprawled on his back, a look of confusion on his face. Dally was looking down at him from his spot on the couch, a mixture of anger and exasperation warring within him. Two-Bit cocked an eyebrow, a smile slowly spreading across his face as his eyes grew wide. Apprehension began to creep up on Dally. Two-Bit looked like a teakettle that was about to explode, the pressure needing an escape. It was going to be loud - he knew it.

"Glory - look at who it is!"

Dally cringed as the words split through his skull like a razor sharp buzz saw, starting at the throbbing wound on the back of his head and traveling up and over until it settled between his eyes. He flopped back onto his pillow with a groan.

"Easy, Two-Bit. Dal's had a long night," Darry explained as he came into the room, carrying a plate of food and a cup of coffee. "Feel like eating?" he asked as he set the items down on the coffee table.

Dally looked over and immediately felt a wave of nausea wash over him. The pancakes were burnt in places and swimming in butter and syrup. But that wasn't what turned his stomach. No, it was the fact that the pancakes were a weird cross between the normal pancake color and a faint green tint. He definitely wasn't up for green food at the moment.

Swallowing heavily, he said, "No thanks. I'll take the coffee, though. And maybe a million aspirins."

"Right." Darry leaned into the hallway and yelled for Soda to grab the aspirin from the bathroom. The noise was finally getting to Ponyboy and he made a funny smacking sound and rolled over in the chair. Dally hadn't completely forgotten the kid was even in the room. Someone had thrown a blanket over him during the night and he was holding on tightly to a pillow. He looked like a little kid - all that was missing was a fucking teddy bear under his arm.

Two-Bit was still on the floor and he tentatively stretched out his leg until it hovered over the end of the chair that was hanging in the air. Dally smirked, imagining the chair snapping closed, sending Ponyboy crashing to the floor.

Darry looked down at Two-Bit. "Don't," was all he said as he turned and walked back into the kitchen. Two-Bit gave Darry's departing back a mock salute and reluctantly dropped his foot to the ground.

Soda ambled into the family room in his jeans and stocking feet. His DX shirt was hanging open and his hair was dripping from a recent shower. He looked well rested and wide-awake. Dally hated him for it.

"Hey, Dal," Soda said with a warm smile and a sympathetic wince as he handed him the bottle of aspirin. Dally grabbed the bottle and sighed with relief as he downed four of the pills with the coffee, not even carrying that the liquid was scorching hot and burned a path down his throat. He knew it was all in his head, but he didn't care - the moment he took the medicine his headache began to ease.

"Thanks, man," he said gratefully and without any edge of sarcasm or malice.

"Anytime," Soda said. "Want any breakfast?"

"No thanks. Darry already offered. You do the cooking?"

Soda laughed. "Yeah. Too burnt?"

"Nah. Too green," Dally admitted lightheartedly, a tone he hadn't used in months. He found himself grinning despite himself, his mood lightening. It was too easy to drop all pretenses around Sodapop Curtis. Hell, it was too easy around all of them, which was probably one of the reasons he stayed away. He never really gave it much thought - why he'd stopped coming around. He'd suffered through all that psychiatric crap in prison and he wasn't about to do it on his own now that he was out. It was all bullshit anyway. _His mama didn't love him, so he hated the world? _Whatever.

The screen door suddenly slammed shut, causing Dally to jump slightly, coffee sloshing over the side of the mug and spilling on his hand. "Goddamn it," he growled, feeling like his old self again, the moment before forgotten.

Steve walked into the room and headed straight for the recliner, not even noticing Dallas. "What's with Sleeping Beauty here?" he asked sarcastically as he pushed the footrest down in a quick motion, sending Ponyboy to the floor in a dazed heap.

"Huh?" the kid mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Have a nice trip, Ponyboy?" Two-Bit said, giggling. Dally rolled his eyes. What self-respecting nineteen year old giggled?

"Geez, that's lame one, Two-Bit," Pony said with a yawn.

"Yeah, well it's early."

* * *

"Do you think he should take the deal or go for door number 2?" Mary asked from her spot on the couch, looking up from the crossword puzzle she was working on while watching TV. 

_I don't care, _Johnny thought with uncharacteristic sarcasm. He was bored, plain and simple. And tired, and sore, and kind of grumpy. "Door number 2," he replied in a monotone as he watched with disinterest as the guy "won" a goat and some hay. His parents would have probably tied the damn thing up in the backyard and celebrated their victory with a bottle of cheap whiskey. Better yet - they would've tied _him_ up in the backyard and given the goat his bedroom … and celebrated with a bottle of cheap whiskey.

Therapy had been early that morning and his therapist had apparently been on a mean streak and didn't let up until the two hours were up. He didn't even know why he bothered going any more. It wasn't like he was ever going to walk again, so what was left to rehabilitate? Mary's argument was that he should keep going as long as the state was paying for it. Exercise was exercise and every little bit helped him get around easier. She was right, of course, though he didn't feel like admitting it just then.

He also suspected that she enjoyed being back at the hospital, even if it was just as an observer. He hoped that once school started up and he was gone for a good part of the day, she would think about going back to work. Sarah had been right, Mary was a great nurse and sitting around watching game shows and soaps all day wasn't doing either of them any good. Maybe she didn't want to go back because of her son Daniel. Maybe the hospital brought up bad memories. He didn't know and he swore he would never ask.

Just as the host guy started talking to some lady dressed as a hotdog, the doorbell rang. Johnny had never welcomed a reprieve more. His first instinct was to jump up and answer it, but he was anchored to the couch - immobile and stuck, while Mary answered the door.

"Hi, Keith," she said and Johnny grinned. She could never remember to call him Two-Bit. "Thank you for remembering to ring the doorbell this time."

"No problem, Mrs. M. - I told you, I won't barge in no more without first announcing my presence," he said as though he were addressing the Queen or a head of state.

"Thank you," she answered, equally serious.

Two-Bit routinely stormed into the house without knocking or ringing the doorbell, same as at the Curtis's. One day Johnny and Tom were running an errand when Two-Bit came by unannounced. He apparently surprised Mary - she had been vacuuming in her rollers and sweats while dancing and singing along to Tom Jones. Johnny thought the whole thing sounded pretty funny. Naturally, so did Two-Bit. Mary, however, was mortified and embarrassed and made him swear to ring the bell first before coming in.

It only took Two-Bit three weeks to get into the habit. Three long weeks. Now Mary praised him every time he remembered, like a puppy. Johnny half-expected her to pull a treat out of her pocket and toss it in the air for him. Knowing Two-Bit, he'd try and catch it. Two-Bit wasn't completely reformed though - Johnny still caught him humming "It's Not Unusual" every once in a while.

"Johnny, it's Keith and Ponyboy. Oh, and you are?"

Curiosity piqued, Johnny turned to look behind him to see who else was at the door. He couldn't believe who was standing there. He'd just about figured he'd dropped off the face of the earth.

"This is Dally. Don't worry, he doesn't bite … usually," Two-Bit explained cheerfully as the trio made their way into the house.

* * *

It looked like some twisted cop's idea of a lineup - four greasers crammed together on a flowered couch situated in the center of a cozy living room in a nice middle class home. Two-Bit and Ponyboy came over all the time, but somehow the inclusion of Dallas made the whole thing seem surreal. 

Dally was being quiet and polite. It was a little unnerving. Johnny figured it might have something to do with his concussion. He did look pale and kind of sick.

Two-Bit and Ponyboy explained what happened - a long, sprawling tale that was obviously concocted between the two of them to spare Mary from hearing what actually happened. Johnny was pretty sure Dally wasn't attacked from behind while protecting an elderly woman from a gang of masked robbers in some dark alley. He also doubted that Dally fought back with his newly acquired Kung-Fu skills, sending the attackers running for the hills. Luckily, they ended the story before Dally could rescue the fair maiden from the evil prince.

After the story was finished, Mary eyed them suspiciously from her chair, but she didn't say anything. She had to know it was completely ridiculous. She was a cop's wife, for Pete's sake - she had to have heard the name Dallas Winston before. But she didn't say anything, leading them to believe they'd fooled her. She stood up and made her way toward the kitchen. "Are you boys thirsty? I have lemonade."

No one answered at first and Mary looked a little hurt. Johnny cleared his throat, hoping to help her out. "Lemonade sounds great." The other guys nodded in agreement.

"Cookies?" she asked and Dally snickered. Ponyboy elbowed him in the ribs, obviously forgetting for a second who he was sitting next to. It was a crucial error and Dally made a fist, waiting for Mary to leave the room so he could pummel the kid. As soon as she did, Dally landed a sharp jab to Pony's upper arm.

"Ow!" Pony cried out as he rubbed his arm in annoyance, the spot already turning an angry red. Dally pulled his arm back again but Two-Bit reached out, stopping him.

"Enough, Dal," he said evenly.

Dally's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You're joking right?"

Two-Bit's answered with a slow shake of his head. "Nah, man. Just quit it, okay?"

With a jerky move, and obviously against his will, Dally dropped his arm without throwing a second punch. "Give me a break. Y'all have bought into this crap, haven't you?" He sounded angry and disappointed, like they'd all let him down somehow.

"What're you talkin' about, Dal?" Johnny asked from the opposite end of the couch.

Dally spread his arms wide, indicating the room they were sitting in. "This. Flowers. Paintings. Nice Furniture. Sunshine. Kittens. Lemonade. Cookies. It's all bullshit."

"That's not fair," Ponyboy said defensively but flinched as though he was preparing for another punch. It didn't come. Dally just sat there, his jaw clenched as though he would explode, but something was holding him back.

"Hey, what's wrong with kittens?" Two-Bit asked suddenly. He looked at Johnny. "Do you guys even have a cat?"

Johnny stared blankly at his friend; his mouth hanging open as he slowly shook his head "No". _Kittens? Really? _This had to be one of the strangest conversations he'd ever been a part of.

"You know what I mean," Dally said angrily. "This is not us. It ain't right."

"Would you rather have Johnny living in some boys' home in the middle of nowhere, being ignored, or mistreated, or God knows what else?" Two-Bit looked like he was going to start a rumble right there in the middle of the living room on top of the plush Persian rug with poor Pony squished in the middle, unable to escape. Johnny found himself wondering if Tom ever had to arrest anyone in his own house before. First time for everything, he supposed.

"This was stupid, coming here today. I'm outta here," Dally said as he pushed himself up from the sofa. Just then, Mary entered the room carrying a heavy tray of drinks and food. She was struggling slightly and smiled when she saw Dallas stand up.

"Oh, thank goodness. I thought I might drop this," she said as she looked at him, waiting for him to help. Dally stood there unmoving and Johnny was certain he was going to turn on his heel and leave the house without a word. But he didn't. Somewhere deep down, Dallas Winston found the courage to do something decent for a change.

The glasses clanked together as he sat the tray on the coffee table. Everyone reached out and grabbed a glass of lemonade and Dally was the first to take a cookie. Just as he was about to take a bite, Two-Bit interrupted him.

"Wait - I thought cookies were evil?"

* * *

It felt like old times - like a hellish ten months hadn't just passed, changing everything. They were in the park, killing time on the tiny basketball court. Dally was under a tree, claiming his head hurt too much to play. He had his sunglasses on and Johnny couldn't tell if he was watching them play or if he had his eyes closed - probably the latter. If it wasn't for the fact that he kept raising his hand to take a drag from his cigarette, Johnny would have thought he was sleeping. 

It was hot and they were all moving a little slowly. Johnny was still getting the hang of maneuvering his chair on the macadam and playing basketball at the same time. His therapist had taken him and Ponyboy to a game that was made up of teams of guys who were in wheelchairs and those guys were tough. It was amazing to see. He wasn't anywhere near as good as those guys - but he was still somehow beating Two-Bit. Maybe it was because he refused to put down the bottle of beer he'd smuggled out of someone's house under his jacket.

"Man it's hot," Two-Bit said for the hundredth time as his shot the ball one-handed and missed, for the hundredth time.

"Well, maybe you should take your jacket off. It's a million degrees out and you're wearing a leather jacket and complaining about the heat," Ponyboy pointed out as he slowly dribbled the ball.

Two-Bit looked down at the ground and kicked a pebble. He didn't have a witty comeback and Johnny grew suspicious. "Two-Bit, why can't you take your jacket off?"

Shrugging, Two-Bit said, "No reason."

Ponyboy snorted in disbelief. "Come on, man. Somethin's up."

"Fine, fine," he said as he sat the bottle carefully on the ground and shrugged off his heavy coat. "There. Happy now?"

Both guys leaned in closer to get a better look. There, plain as day on Two-Bit's upper arm, was a huge red heart surrounded by two flying cupids and a ring of roses. An intricate scroll bisected the heart and contained a single word, written in a delicate, flowery script - _Kathy_.

"Well, that sure is tuff," Ponyboy laughed.

Two-Bit examined his arm, a perplexed look on his face. "I know. Bitch of it is - I can't even remember agreeing to do it. One minute, Kath was saying how romantic it would be to get our names tattooed on each other and the next thing I know, some huge bald guy is jamming a needle in my arm."

"Wait, she got one too?" Ponyboy asked, a shocked look on his face.

Two-Bit grinned, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah and you should see where. Wait. Scratch that. If you ever see where I will have to beat the shit out of you."

The game seemed to have been forgotten as Two-Bit relayed his story of the wayward tattoo to Ponyboy. Johnny slipped away unnoticed and made his way over to Dally. The grass was uneven and he had to struggle a couple of times to get the chair over the roots of the tree, but he made it.

"Hey," he said quietly. The shade felt really good after being on the dark macadam under the sweltering mid-day sun.

"Hey," Dally replied, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He held them out in front of him. "Want one?" he offered.

Johnny shook his head. "Nah, gave 'em up."

Dally didn't say anything at first. It was hard to read his expression behind those glasses and Johnny wished he'd take them off. Dally withdrew a cancer stick for himself and shrugged. "That's cool, I guess."

Dally sat up a little straighter, his back propped against the rough trunk of the tree. He pulled of his glasses and squinted up at Johnny. "So, you like them? Your foster parents?" he asked hesitantly.

Johnny smiled. "Yeah, I do."

"They treat ya okay?"

"They're cool. Really nice. They never yell," he explained carefully.

Dally laughed at this. "Kid, you never gave anyone a reason to yell. Your folks were just fucking nuts."

"I haven't seen them," Johnny said suddenly. He played it through his head constantly; sometimes he even dreamt about it - well, those were closer to nightmares, really. What would it be like to be in the same room with them again, run into them on the street or in a store? What would he say to them? What would they do?

"Not even in the hospital?" Dally asked and Johnny shook his head, looking down at his hands, which were folded, in his lap. "Good. Who needs 'em, right? No way they should've been allowed to be parents in the first place. Fucking idiots."

"Thanks, Dal," Johnny said quietly.

"No problem, kid. Just be careful," Dally said, leaning forward. "Don't be surprised when you hit eighteen and those nice folks you're livin' with send you flying out the door, slamming it shut behind you."

"They ain't like that."

Dally put his sunglasses back on and gave a cynical laugh. "I'm just warning you. It may be all lemonade and cookies now; but turn eighteen and it'll be: _See ya later kid, don't let the door hit ya on your way out_. Trust me on this."

Ponyboy came strolling up to the shady spot, interrupting the conversation. Two-Bit was trailing behind, holding his jacket over his shoulder with one hand while the other held the nearly empty bottle of beer. A couple of girls jogged by and he was momentarily distracted, yelling catcalls after them.

"So," Johnny started once Two-Bit joined the group, "what are you gonna do with the tattoo once you and Kathy break-up again?"

"Ain't gonna happen, kid," Two-Bit assured them as he tipped back the bottle and drained the remaining contents.

"Right," the other three all drawled in unison.

* * *

_O_

_O_

_O_

_A/N - Sorry this one took so long to post. It was starting to feel like the never ending chapter, lol. Thanks again for all the reviews. _


	36. Chapter 36

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 36**

He wished like crazy he hadn't noticed them, because once he did he couldn't tune them out. It was like it was the only sound in the world at that moment, drowning out even the deep breathing of his brother, fast asleep next to him. Crickets. Unbelievably loud and obnoxious crickets. Their chirping split through the still night air; an annoying cadence that seemed to bounce off the walls, amplifying to a volume that was impossible to ignore.

Since he was awake anyway, Ponyboy decided to use the time for something worthwhile. Staring at the ceiling, attempting to concentrate - he rifled through his thoughts, trying to come up with a beginning to his article that was due at the end of the week. Hell, at this point he'd settle for a middle or an end. This had never happened before - writer's block. It was frustrating, to say the least. Nothing was coming to him and he was a little afraid that nothing would.

Sighing, he turned on his side. It was the middle of the morning, dark as anything outside, the sunrise not due for several more hours. The window was open and a faint breeze stirred the thin curtains, but it didn't reach the bed. It was hot and that sure wasn't helping his restlessness.

He had no idea why his brain decided now would be a good time to desert him. All summer, like clockwork, he'd written an article a week. Turned them in early and spent the remainder of the week shadowing his editor Chris, trying to soak up as much as he could about working at a newspaper. Chris was great about letting him help out with just about anything. Layout was the coolest; deciding just where to put the pictures, how big to make the headlines, stuff like that. Chris even let him write a few of the headlines. They were corny and clichéd, but he always proudly showed them off to Soda and Darry when the paper arrived in the morning.

Cherry wasn't there as much as he was, but he did cross paths with her a couple of times a week. It was weird seeing her outside of school. For starters, she actually looked at him and talked to him. But that wasn't it, not really. She just seemed different away from the other kids and the rest of the world looking on. Calmer, maybe. Less reserved, less perfect. She smiled a lot - not that she didn't before. But these seemed to be genuine smiles, not like she was smiling just because she thought that was what was expected of her.

The whole Dally mess from a couple of weeks ago, though, started to put up a wall between them again. He wasn't surprised. She had come up to him about a week after she had called him to help her out. She asked about Dally, about how he was. It was all he could do to keep from laughing in her face - whether it would be in disbelief or defeat, he couldn't decide. Leave it to Dal to get a girl interested in him by breaking into her house.

Maybe he was reading too much into it. He had a tendency to do that. But there was something in the way she asked the question - kind of hesitantly, like she'd suddenly become painfully shy. Cherry Valance was anything but shy.

Closing his eyes, he tried willing sleep to come. The chirping grew louder, and he was sure he was going insane because he the sound now had a rhythm that bore a striking resemblance to that annoying song _Wild Thing _by the band with the name he could never remember. Punching his pillow into submission, he muttered a curse. Now - on top of the crickets, failed opening sentences to his article, and thoughts about Cherry Valance - he had the chorus to _Wild Thing _screaming in his head.

Finally admitting defeat, he stood up, grabbed his pillow and made his way down the hall to the family room. Maybe some TV would distract him. He realized fairly quickly that there was no television at this time of the morning. Every channel was off the air, either filled with snow or a test pattern. Turning down the volume, he left the TV on and decided on a channel with the snow. He sat heavily on the couch and flopped over, squishing his pillow beneath his head as he lay across the lumpy cushions. The flickering white light from the TV was strangely hypnotic and he felt his eyelids growing heavy.

He was almost asleep when he sensed a presence hovering above him.

"What're you doing out here, Pony?" Sodapop asked, his voice sleepy and a bit confused.

"Couldn't sleep. I didn't mean to wake you up," Pony said as he sat up, making room for his brother on the sofa. Soda flopped down next to him and shrugged.

"No problem. Glory, it's hot," he said as he ran his hand through his hair, making it stick up every which way.

"Hot and quiet," Pony added.

"Usually quiet at night, though. Kinda helps with the whole sleeping thing," Soda said with a laugh.

"Yeah, but my brain wouldn't shut off and let me sleep. Can't think of anything to write and I guess my brain thought three in the morning would be a good time to start worrying 'bout it," Pony sighed, leaning his head back on the cushion behind him. "Now I'm too awake to ever fall asleep."

"Well, what's the article supposed to be about?"

"That's just it - I don't know," he explained, a note of frustration in his voice. "Last week's article finished the whole story about Johnny and Dally and everything that happened. There isn't anything to add. This one is supposed to wrap things up, but I just don't even know how to begin."

"You'll think of somethin'- you always do," Soda said reassuringly as he slouched in his seat and leaned over, resting his head on his brother's shoulder. He yawned and crossed his arms, as though setting in for the remainder of the night. Pony shifted slightly. Soda was heavy and he could already imagine how numb his arm would be in the morning if he let him fall asleep against him.

"Today's Sunday," Pony suddenly said.

"Uh huh," Soda confirmed.

"Darry doesn't work on Sundays."

"Nope."

"Don't you have off today, too?"

"Yep."

"We should do somethin'. We ain't done nothing just as brothers since, well … we ain't done nothing just as the three of us for a long time."

Soda laughed as he pushed himself upright to look his little brother in the eye. "Oh, Darry has plans for us alright. He has a list this long," Soda demonstrated with his hands - one high above his head and the other down toward the floor. "It's full of chores and repairs. We'll be bonding as brothers, alright. Tired, sore brothers who want nothing more than to never see another paint brush or hammer again as long as they live."

"Well, we'll just have to talk him out of it," Pony said confidently, already devising a plan of what to say, how to convince Darry they all need a day of fun.

Soda was a little more skeptical. "Sure, no sweat. 'Cause we both know Darry hasn't been planning this since he realized we'd all be home today." He held both hands out, palms up, like the arms of a scale. "Hang out," the right hand rose. "Teenage slave labor," the left hand rose as the right one dropped. "Hmm … tough one there, Pone."

"Trust me," Pony said, stretching out across the couch, steadily pushing Soda with the heel of his foot until he gave up his spot and landed on the floor.

"I'll believe it when I see it, little brother."

* * *

"I can't believe it actually worked," Soda said with awe as they loaded up the truck with fishing gear, patched-up inner tubes and various other "fun" related items they found in the deep recesses of the attic. Darry had even dug out Mom's old picnic basket and packed up a lunch for later. 

Pony just grinned - a shit-eating-grin to be exact. He was enjoying his little victory and wasn't going to let Soda forget it.

"Well --" he began.

"I told you so," Soda finished for him. "We both thought there wasn't a chance in hell he'd go for it, so quit actin' like you knew all along."

Darry came out of the house, a couple of old blankets in his arms - well, older than the ones they use everyday, at least. "Don't think this lets either of you off the hook for helping out around the house," he said sternly, wagging a finger at the pair of them as he made his way to the driver's side of the truck. "Pony doesn't start school for two more weeks and all three of us are going to work on getting this place back into shape - starting with a those damn gutters."

Soda looked behind him at the gutter that lined the roof above the porch. He hadn't even noticed that a piece of it had broken off. He supposed that was why there was always a sheet of water to run through whenever it rained hard. He'd always figured that was just what was supposed to happen when it rained. Hell, he'd never even noticed there were gutters there before Darry mentioned them. Or cracks in the plaster in the kitchen. Or a broken step on the porch. Or water damage in his bedroom. Darry just seemed to notice these things, whereas he'd be hard pressed to point out a problem if the ceiling came crashing down on his head.

"So where to?" he asked as he pulled himself up into the truck, squishing Ponyboy between the two of them.

"Figured we'd go to that old spot outside of town that Dad liked so much," Darry said, pulling carefully away from the curb - after looking both ways, of course.

"Yeah, didn't one of us actually catch a fish there one year?" Soda said, a faint memory itching at the corner of his mind.

Darry laughed. "That was Mom, believe it or not. None of us guys ever caught so much as a guppy and there she was standing all proud, a trout dangling from the end of her line. She never let Dad forget it."

"I think I remember that. And didn't she make Dad let the fish go?" Ponyboy piped up. He was only five at the time, but it was hard to forget their father's laugh at the horrified look their mother gave him when he suggested gutting and cleaning the fish and cooking it for lunch.

"She sure did. Dad looked heartbroken," Darry said, shaking his head in amusement.

"Remember how depressed he was when we finally sat down for lunch. Man, what was it she made us?" Soda asked.

"Peanut butter and jelly, of course," Pony suddenly remembered.

"Well, PB and J sure beats fresh trout any day," Soda said with a laugh and it wasn't long before Darry and Ponyboy joined in. The rest of the drive was filled with memories - both humorous and bittersweet. Soda realized they hadn't talked like that since the accident, since losing their parents.

* * *

The old bridge was rickety as ever, but still standing. White paint was visible here and there, but had mostly been stripped from the wood through time. Ponyboy wasn't sure it could withstand a car going over it, but the whole area seemed pretty secluded, so he figured it mustn't be used much. 

He and Darry had both cast their lines into the creek below at least an hour ago. So far, nothing, not even a nibble. Pony didn't care. It was just nice to sit and watch the water ripple in the sunlight as Soda lazily spun with the current in one of the black inner tubes they'd brought with them. A breeze stirred the trees and for the first time in about a week, the humidity had backed off, leaving them with a heat that was comfortable.

"Thanks, Darry," Ponyboy said quietly as he toyed with the reel and tugged experimentally on the rod. There was no tension on the line. It was looking more and more like it was going to be peanut butter and jelly for lunch. Pony didn't mind. He wasn't really looking forward to watching Darry gut a fish.

"You're welcome," Darry answered. He was quiet for a minute or two before asking, "Um, what are you thanking me for?"

"This - saying yes when I know you probably wanted to say no." He motioned to the trees and the creek and the bright, clear sky above them.

Darry sighed and leaned his forehead against one of the beams forming the bridge. "Even I can admit it's nice to get away once in a while."

"Darry - and please don't take this the wrong way - but do you ever do anything just for fun anymore?" Pony asked carefully. Darry looked at him, his expression blank and Pony began to wonder if he asked the wrong question. It was certainly beginning to look that way.

Soda, apparently finished for now with floating around, was making his way over to the spot his two brothers were fishing from. He had on a pair of cutoffs and Pony could already see the sunburn that was forming on his bare shoulders and nose. Soda sat down between the two of them, his legs dangling over the side of the bridge. He had brought a handful of stones with him and started tossing them into the creek below.

"What did I miss?" he asked with a big grin, looking expectantly between the two of them. Pony was chewing on his bottom lip and Darry was staring blindly at the spot where his fishing line disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

"Oh nothing," he said steadily, "just you're little brother pointing out the fact that I don't seem to know how to have fun anymore."

"Yeah, and …" Soda prompted.

"What do you mean, _yeah, and_? I have fun."

Soda actually laughed at that one and it was all Pony could do to keep from biting through his lip to control his own laughter.

"When was the last time you went out on a date?" Soda asked almost accusingly.

"I go on lots of dates."

Soda and Pony just stared at Darry. The muscle in his jaw was clenching to the point that they could actually see the vein throb.

"Fine," he said as though it the word was being drug forcefully out of him. "I guess it's been a while."

"How about Sarah?" Pony asked a little too quickly and Darry looked at him suspiciously.

"Sarah Martin - Johnny's social worker?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

Pony nodded wordlessly.

Soda was apparently catching on. "Yeah, Sarah - she'd be great. She's pretty hot and well, you guys always have interesting conversations."

"We fight."

"Everyone fights," Soda shrugged.

"A lot."

"So, that don't mean nothin'. What's that sayin', Pony? There's a skinny road or something?" Soda was motioning like mad, trying to remember the phrase.

"There's a thin line between love and hate?" Pony supplied helpfully.

"Yeah, that's it. I mean, look at how great you guys argue - imagine what it would be like when you're not fightin'. If ya know what I mean," Soda said meaningfully, nudging his older brother in the ribs.

"So both of you think I should ask Sarah out?"

"I think she likes you," Pony said, still staring at the water.

"Really?" both Soda and Darry asked simultaneously.

Pony reddened slightly. "That's what she told Johnny," he said quietly, suddenly feeling like he was breaking a trust even though he wasn't the one she had told it to in the first place. If anyone should feel guilty - it should be Johnny. He was going to have to let him know that the next time he saw him.

He cautiously looked over at his two brothers - Soda was grinning like mad and Darry looked perplexed, like he was trying to solve a hard math problem in his head or something.

"Sarah and Darry, sittin' in a tree …" Soda started to sing in a girly voice as he swung his legs back and forth like a little kid.

"Shut up, Soda," Darry said, but he didn't sound angry - more like amused with an edge annoyance. Or was it annoyed with a touch of amusement? Either way - he wasn't mad.

"I think you should ask her out," Pony said matter-of-factly as he began reeling in his fishing line.

"Oh you do, do you?" Darry said. "And just where do you suggest I take her on this date?"

"The movies," Pony suggested, but was cut-off by a scoffing Sodapop.

"You can't take her to the movies, Darry. She's sophisticated, not some kid," Soda said, shaking his head.

"Okay - so where would you take her, since you seem to know so much?" Ponyboy said, acting a little hurt even though he had to admit his suggestion was kind of lame.

Soda stared off into space, squinting into the bright afternoon sun. "Buck usually has a pretty good party every weekend."

"You can't be serious. Sarah Martin at Buck Merril's? Jeez, that's a swell idea, Soda," Ponyboy said, rolling his eyes.

Darry was smiling and Soda looked at him. "What?" he asked.

"Come on, Soda. That's pretty much one step up from sayin' I should take her in the truck and park up at Inspiration Point or something."

"Well, now that you mention it …" Soda started, trying to keep a straight face.

* * *

The rest of the day was as close to perfect as any of them could have hoped for. No fish were caught. Sandwiches were eaten. Rocks were skipped successfully. Memories were made. 

The ride home was pretty much silent. The sun was setting, starting it's slow descent toward the horizon. Pony looked at Soda and Darry on either side of him and wondered if they noticed the colors that filled the sky and the beauty of the moment.

"Glory," Soda whispered next to him and he smiled. "You were right, Pony. That was amazing. I ain't never really noticed before."

Darry didn't say anything. He had one hand on the wheel and his other one was bent, leaning out the open window. He was smiling though, an almost dreamy expression on his face. Pony had never seen him look like that - not even when their parents were alive and he didn't have to worry so much.

As though he felt Pony's eyes on him, he looked over at his little brother. He nodded slightly, his smile growing crooked. Grabbing the steering wheel with his free hand, he reached over and mussed up Pony's hair and then playfully punched him on the arm.

Pony grinned and returned his gaze to the window. The sun was almost gone now, the sky nearly purple and he could just make out the stars that were appearing in the sky. He wasn't surprised when the opening sentence for his article started to come to him, easily writing itself as the truck made its final turn onto their street and brought them home.

_Whatever happens now - whether it's decided by fate or I have some say in the matter - I'm certain of one thing: My life will turn out just fine as long as I have my brothers by my side._

* * *

_O_

_O_

_O_

_A/N Sorry this chapter took so long to write. Gee, I wonder where I got the idea for Pony to have writer's block, lol. Hope you guys like it. Thanks again for the great reviews._


	37. Chapter 37

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 37**

Sarah pushed her hair behind her ear as she inspected the menu in front of her. It was a gesture she did often, Darry noted. She also crinkled her nose when she smiled and covered her mouth when she laughed. He liked noticing these things and wondered why he hadn't before.

She was wearing a light blue dress and a white cardigan, and her hair was unconfined, skimming her shoulders in soft waves. Darry had dug out his gray suit, much to the amusement of his brothers. What they expected him to wear, he wasn't sure. Soda usually left for a date in a flannel shirt thrown over the jeans he'd worn to work that day, like any typical seventeen-year-old greaser. It amazed Darry how different his outlook on the world had become once he'd hit twenty. Suits and tablecloths would have seemed so foreign to him just a couple of years ago.

"You look nice," he told Sarah as she continued to decide what to order. She looked up at him and smiled, the flickering light from a candle on their table catching the lenses of her glasses.

"Thank you, you look nice, too," she said, again tucking that errant lock of hair back.

"Thanks, so do you," he replied quickly, without thinking, and then immediately fought the urge to slam his forehead onto the table. He'd already said that, hadn't he? Sarah laughed softly but didn't say anything. Apparently she'd noticed his blunder - of course she had. Suddenly he was acting about as smooth as Ponyboy on his first date.

He couldn't think of what to say next, how to cover up his mistake. He was saved from having to come up with would have most likely been an awkward transition when their waitress appeared next to their table. When he had called Sarah after he and his brothers returned from their fishing trip, she had suggested they go to a small, family owned Italian restaurant that she knew well. An image of Sarah at Buck's flashed through his mind, courtesy of Soda, and he immediately agreed to her suggestion.

The place was nice - rustic and warm. It was the kind of place his mom and dad went to on their anniversary. A nice treat where they could pretend for a while that they weren't struggling to make ends meet.

"What can I get you tonight?" the waitress asked in a cordial tone and then proceeded to rattle off a list of the specials for the night. Darry was only half listening as he quickly scanned the menu. The prices weren't bad, but he couldn't help calculating how many hours of roofing equaled that lasagne. It was a habit - an annoying one, as Pony felt the need to constantly point out - that he couldn't break. In the end, a tiny voice - one that sounded suspiciously like Sodapop - told him to quit worrying and he wound up ordering the lasagne. It was either that or a salad and if anybody he knew ever found out he'd ordered a salad, he'd be dead meat.

Sarah ordered and the waitress left with the menus, and she seemed to take all the topics for conversation with her as well. Sarah sipped her white wine and Darry idly swiped at the condensation forming on his beer bottle. They sat like that for a couple of minutes, neither one saying anything. Finally, Sarah broke the silence.

"So," Sarah started just as Darry took a swig from the bottle, "I understand you're the toughest guy in a rumble."

He almost choked on his beer as he sputtered, "w-what?"

She was grinning, a look that made him think immediately of Two-Bit. "Toughest guy in a rumble," she repeated with a thoughtful nod. "Pretty impressive."

"Who told you that?" his eyes narrowing as his mind sifted through the list of potential suspects.

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh, I have my sources." She said it seriously, but Darry could tell she was holding back a laugh.

Deciding to play along, he mimicked her body language, crossed his arms, and kept his face blank. "Is that so?"

"Yep," she answered. "But you'll never get it out of me."

"Oh really?"

"I'm a cop's daughter. We never rat out our sources. That's not how things are done." He wondered if she realized she'd slipped into a slight fake New York accent like one of those cop shows on TV. Now he was having a hard time not laughing as well.

Leaning forward, he picked up the silver butter knife from the table and made a show of slowly polishing it with his cloth napkin. "That's okay," he said steadily, "you don't have to say who it was. It was either Ponyboy," he tapped the knife against his index finger as though he was counting. He kept his eyes on her face, hoping for a reaction. There wasn't one.

"Or Two-Bit." She didn't even blink and he faltered for a moment.

"Johnny?" he said incredulously as he touched the knife to his ring finger. She cleared her throat and picked up a roll from the bread basket on the table, ignoring the question.

"Johnny," he repeated again and she looked down at her place setting, making a show of lining up the forks next to the plate.

"He was being helpful." Sarah didn't look up and Darry couldn't help but notice that she was blushing slightly. He had a feeling this wasn't the direction she was hoping this conversation would take. Well, it was her own fault for bringing it up in the first place. "I was, um, bugging him."

"About me?"

She nodded silently and he leaned forward in his seat. It was finally all coming back to him, what it was like to talk to a girl. The thrill of bantering and flirting. He could actually feel his shoulders relax as he saw hers stiffen. He was having fun.

"And Johnny told you I was the toughest guy in a rumble?"

A small smile tugged on Sarah's lips. "Yeah, and honestly, that took a ton of prodding to just to get that much out of him. Let's see … you take care of your brothers, you're strong, you like football, and you're good in a fight."

Darry laughed. "Just what a girl wants to hear."

"_Exactly_ what a girl wants to hear. I take it Johnny didn't have much experience with girls before the accident?" The fire was fading from Sarah's cheeks and she seemed to be losing some of her awkwardness from moments ago.

"Nah, Johnny didn't have much experience with anything except trying to avoid his father's fists." Darry didn't mean to make it sound so dire, but there was really no way to sugarcoat it.

Sarah didn't looked shocked by his statement, just a little sad. "I'm worried about school," she said. "I don't know how he's going to handle going back."

"He's tough. He'll get through it," he assured her, but he didn't know if he believed that or not. "Ponyboy and Two-Bit are going to be there as well. Two-Bit was going to dropout and get a job, but I think he's appointed himself Johnny's personal bodyguard or something."

Sarah laughed, "he sees my parents more than I do."

"Bet they didn't know they were getting a two-for-one deal when they agreed to be foster parents."

"They don't mind. He keeps things … interesting."

The waitress appeared with their plates and the next couple of minutes were quiet as they sampled their food. It was delicious. Darry decided that even if he had to take a third job, he was definitely bringing Sarah back to that place as soon as possible.

After the initial rush of getting their food wore off, Sarah started the conversation again.

"Do you think Ponyboy would be upset if he wasn't Johnny's tutor when the new school year started?" she asked.

Darry shrugged. "Probably, but I wouldn't mind him focusing more on his own work." He stopped for a moment, his fork frozen in the air. "Gosh, that sounded harsh. That's not how I meant it," he hurried to explain.

"I understand," she assured him.

"I'm hoping he'll try out for track again. He had to quit last year because of everything that happened. Plus the editor at the newspaper has been hinting that he wouldn't mind having him stick around once school starts back up."

"That's terrific. All that will take up a bunch of his time."

"Exactly," Darry agreed. "We all want what's best for Johnny and we want to help anyway we can."

"I think a new tutor will help a great deal. He relies on you guys for a lot and I think he needs to be put in situations where he has to deal with new people, maybe something that will make him uncomfortable at first. In the long run, though, it will make him stronger."

"He'll be nervous as hell," Darry said, taking a bite of the pasta.

"Trust me, I know," she said with a grin. "Especially if I'm able to get the person I'm thinking of."

"Someone you know?"

"No, someone I was told about by a woman who worked with my mother at the hospital. This girl can use the money, she just returned home from a private school she attended last year. My mom's friend swears that she's smart and has a real good head on her shoulders."

Darry only really focused on one part of her description. "Girl?"

Worrying her bottom lip, Sarah nodded. "Yeah."

Darry couldn't help but laugh. "Lord, to be a fly on that wall …"

"Darry --" Sarah started, her tone scolding.

"You do intend for him to speak at some point during the next semester, don't you?"

"You'll just have to trust me on this. It is, after all, my job," she reminded him, pointing her fork at him as though to emphasize her point.

"Whatever you say," he said with all the sincerity he could muster, which wasn't much.

The rest of the night veered toward small talk. Darry explained his job in as little detail as possible. It bored the hell out of him and he couldn't imagine what it must be like to _actually_ listen to someone rattle on about roofing.

Sarah talked about her job as a social worker and he found himself caught up in her passion for her work. He had a hard time reconciling the woman in front of him with the bitter woman assigned to his family who showed up on his doorstep once a month. Did that woman ever talk about helping people and making a difference? Did she ever imagine a brighter future for the kids she was placing and keeping tabs on, or was she always hard and mean?

The system was harsh - he felt it daily in his struggles with keeping his own household afloat, and he saw it daily on the streets of his neighborhood with kids placed in dangerous situations with no real way out. Maybe the system was also harsh on those working on the opposite end; he'd never really given it any thought. Maybe Sarah would eventually lose her idealism and become disillusioned and cold. He certainly hoped not.

She was just wrapping up a story about a brother and sister she was trying to place together in a foster home when an older gentleman wearing a tomato stained apron appeared at their table. "Little Sarah Martin, I thought that was you," he said cheerfully.

Sarah jumped up and gave him a big hug. "Mr. Giordano, it's great to see you. I didn't know you worked here now."

"Well, after your pop left the force, things weren't the same anymore. Plus, they wanted me to retire. I think I surprised them when I went without a fight. Olivia and I bought this place last year and it's the best thing we've ever done."

Sarah returned to her seat. "Darry, this is Sal Giordano. He and my dad were on the force together for … gosh, how long were you guys there?"

"Too long," Sal said with a laugh and held out his hand for Darry to shake. "So is this your fella? About time you settled down." Darry took his hand and cleared his throat nervously.

"Um, this is Darrel Curtis, Sal. He's a, um, friend of mine." Her smile looked strained and Darry was certain the one plastered on his face didn't look much more natural, either.

When she said his name, Sal's grip tightened on his hand. "Curtis, you say? Darrel Curtis? Same name as your dad, right?"

Darry nodded, his expression blank. "Yes, sir." He didn't know how to react, what to say.

Suddenly, Sal clamped a meaty hand on his shoulder and a solemn expression filled his eyes. "I met your dad a few times. Fine man, damn fine man."

"Yes, sir," Darry said, an unspoken note of gratitude in his voice.

Sal turned his attention back to Sarah. "How are your folks doing? It's been almost a year, right?"

"More than, actually," she answered and Darry had no idea what she was talking about. "They're fine … good, actually."

"Senseless, I tell you, completely senseless." He was shaking his head and Darry noticed that his hands were in fists at his side. "That was the one thing I could never handle as a cop, how inadequate you'd feel. Nine times out of ten, you were there to clean the mess up, not actually prevent it from happening."

Sarah shifted in her seat, obviously uncomfortable. Darry felt useless, he had no idea what the guy was referring to and he had no idea how to get him to stop talking about it.

"I know, Sal," she said quietly, a hint of sadness in her voice. Sal looked down and for a second Darry was afraid the guy was going to start to cry right there in front of the whole restaurant. Sal visibly pulled himself together and when he looked back up, the jolly smile was back in place.

"Well, Sarah, tell your folks to stop in." The waitress eased her way around him and placed the check on the table next to Darry. Before he could grab it, Sal had snatched it away. "And this is on the house."

Darry opened his mouth to argue but received a sharp jab to his shin under the table. He almost let out a yelp but caught himself in time. Sarah was discreetly shaking her head and mouthed the words "it's okay," at him. Despite the fact that he hated taking any sort of charity, he let her and Sal have their way.

They were quiet as they made their way out to his truck in the parking lot and Darry didn't say anything until they were almost halfway to her apartment.

"Back there - what was he talking about?"

Sarah sighed and leaned her head against the passenger side window. "It's hard to talk about."

"I figured as much."

"It's my brother, Danny."

"Brother?"

"He was killed last year."

Darry felt his stomach drop and his hands grow clammy. "Killed?" _When had this night taken such a dark turn,_ he wondered.

"Wrong place at the wrong time." Her voice was curiously flat. "That's what the police said. Hell, if my dad had been on the case, he would have said the same thing. It was a convenience store. Some gang members were robbing it."

Darry immediately thought of Dally running down the street, waving his gun in the air, daring the police to shoot him. His grip tightened on the steering wheel.

"When? I don't remember --"

"You wouldn't have heard about it. It happened in California. My brother was in law school." She laughed bitterly. "He would have graduated in May. Instead he's dead because he needed milk."

The rest of the ride was silent and Darry figured this was probably the end of the relationship that never began. It felt like a shroud had been laid across the two of them. Between his parents and her brother, they had enough sorrow to last a lifetime.

He pulled up in front of her apartment building and turned off the truck. He walked her to the door; the awkwardness from earlier in the evening started to creep back up on him.

"So - " he began.

"I had a nice time," she said, cutting him off and he gave her a laugh that let her know he didn't believe her. "I mean it, Darry. I had a nice time."

He noticed that that lock of hair that had been troubling her all evening had fallen against her cheek again. Instinctively, he reached out and brushed it back behind her ear. He stopped, surprised to find his fingers in her hair when that hadn't even been his intention in the first place. He pulled his hand back and she smiled sweetly up at him. He wondered for a moment if he should kiss her, but he waited too long and she leaned into the door, opening it a crack.

"I had a nice time, too," he said, trying not to wince at how lame it sounded. "How about --"

"Saturday," she said suddenly. "I'm free next Saturday."

"Okay, how about next Saturday, then?"

"That sounds lovely."

Darry made his way back to the truck as she stood in the doorway, watching him. "Oh, and Sarah," he called back to her before opening his door, "make sure you're ready for an East Side kind of night."

"What does that mean?" she yelled back.

"You'll see."

* * *

_O_

_O_

_O_

_A/N - Sorry it took so long to update and that the last chapter kinda/sorta sounded like it could be the end. I didn't mean to leave everyone hanging like that. Blame Harry Potter. Throwing a midnight party for my store sapped me of all my creative energy, but I think I have it back now. _

_PS. This is not the end :-)_


	38. Chapter 38

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders**

**Chapter 38**

Sarah had to admit that she was a little disappointed that Darry's idea of an "East Side kind of night" was to go bowling. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but she definitely didn't think it was going to require a shoe rental.

Darry spun around on his heel as he made another strike, pumping his arm back in victory. He did that every time. "Showoff," she muttered under her breath as she made the mark on the scorecard. She had never seen him act this way. He was competitive. _Very_ competitive.

He also seemed to object to the way she chose to bowl. Apparently, her technique was lacking. Part of her hoped he would come up and show her the proper technique - the way a guy in a movie would always show the helpless girl how to play pool, or swing a golf club, or, well, throw a bowling ball. She even suggested it to him, but he didn't get the hint.

He came over to the table she was sitting at and knelt down, so that he was at eye level with her. "So, what's the score now?" He was grinning. Of course he was, he was winning.

"Does it really matter?" she asked as she stood up, dropping the pencil on top of the paper. Darry's row was full of X's, whereas hers was riddled with numbers, small numbers. Embarrassingly small numbers. She had an excuse - she hadn't bowled in years and she didn't own her own bowling ball. Darry, of course had his own ball … and shoes. Apparently, they had belonged to his dad. Hers were rented, and they pinched.

As she was reaching for her bowling ball, Darry suddenly grabbed her hand. "You feelin' alright? You seem a little --" His voice trailed off and Sarah suddenly felt guilty.

A piece of hair had come loose from the scarf she had holding it up in a ponytail. She absentmindedly pushed it behind her ear with her free hand as she looked down at her shoes, studying the scuff marks on the worn leather. "I guess I'm not much fun tonight?" she said as she looked up, her eyes meeting his.

His mouth was moving, but she was suddenly deaf, unable to hear him. He hadn't let go of her hand and his thumb was making lazy circles across her knuckles. All her attention was focused that single sensation, the din of the crashing pins and loud rock music disappearing into a distant haze.

"What?" she asked dumbly, realizing he was talking to her.

Darry smiled - a crooked, knowing smile. Something fluttered in her stomach. She chalked it up to the lousy pizza the place served - at least that would have been the cause if they'd actually received the order for food that they'd placed almost a half an hour ago.

"I said, 'Bowling wasn't such a great idea?'" Darry said, apparently repeating himself. Sarah felt her cheeks grow hot as she stumbled for an answer.

"No, it's not that at all. Bowling is fine. I'm terrible at it, but bowling is fine."

"How about a beer?"

Her shoulders slumped in relief, like they'd finally found a solution. "A beer sounds wonderful. It might even help with my game," she joked.

"Couldn't hurt," Darry said with a laugh as he dropped her hand and made his way toward the bar located past the pinball and skeeball machines.

She stepped up to the line just as he called out, "Little to the right, Sarah."

Sighing, she took a step, swung her arm and released the ball a little harder than she intended. The sound of one pin falling barely registered above the noise of the place.

* * *

A piercing scream tore through the dark room. A woman's scream. Dramatic music started to build, the notes growing darker and deeper as a shadowy figure approached, lurking in the trees. 

"So you guys are just going to sit there all night, watching crummy horror movies?" Tom's deep voice rumbled from behind, causing Ponyboy to jump, spilling popcorn all over the couch.

"Yeah," Johnny answered with a laugh as he brushed kernels off his shirt. There was a marathon of horror movies on TV that night - _The Blob_, _The Thing, The Creature From the Black Lagoon_ - the works. Right now, the wolfman was sneaking up on some lady lost in the woods and, well, things weren't looking so good for the lady.

"You aren't actually scared of this crap are you?" Tom asked as he came around the couch and sat in the recliner, a beer in one hand and an unlit cigar in the other.

"Nah," the two boys answered simultaneously. Johnny looked at Ponyboy out of the corner of his eye. Pony had already jumped three times tonight and the movie had only really just started. He was lying, and not doing a very good job of it at the moment. He wondered if he realized he was clutching the pillow so tightly that his knuckles were white.

Tom reached down the side of his chair and pulled on the handle, raising the footrest. He sighed heavily as he settled back and took a sip of beer. "Long damn day at work. You wouldn't believe how stupid these kids must think we are. At least that Mathews kid has the sense to stay out of my department."

Ponyboy made a choking sound and Johnny reached over and pounded on his back.

"You okay, man?" he asked as he locked eyes with Pony. He could guess what he was thinking, probably same thing he was. _Shit, he knows about Two-Bit._

"Popcorn," Pony said as way of explanation, his voice rough and a little shaky.

Tom was chuckling softly. "Relax, guys. Two-Bit Mathews is something of a legend when it comes to department store security guards. He's like the holy grail of busts. I knew who he was the second he stepped into this house."

"You ain't gonna arrest him, are you?" Johnny asked, the movie momentarily forgotten. He knew it sounded silly - Two-Bit came over practically every day without it being a problem. Yet, Tom had never mentioned knowing anything about Two-Bit's extra-curricular activities before.

"We'll just consider the house neutral territory," Tom said.

"Like Switzerland," Ponyboy added through a mouthful of popcorn.

* * *

The beer wasn't helping, but at least it was making things interesting. 

Sarah's bowling ball had become very fond of the gutter, and she was just fine with that. Darry still did his little cheer after every strike, but now it struck her as funny instead of as annoying. She was tempted to do one after every gutter ball, but hadn't worked up the nerve yet. Maybe after her second beer.

All in all, things were looking up.

The waitress eventually brought their food. "Small pizza, two cheeseburgers, fries, chocolate malt, Pepsi," she droned in the most unenthusiastic voice Sarah had ever heard. She plopped the tray down on the table located behind the chairs at their lane and stood there, waiting, popping her gum. Darry stared at her for a beat or two, then suddenly stepped up, fishing in his pocket for change.

"Oh right, here you go. Thank you," he said as he handed over the tip.

The waitress studied coins in her hand, picked out a piece of lint and flung it onto the floor. "Jeez, thanks pal. Now I can retire and live out my dreams," she said in a husky drawl as she walked away, muttering to herself about cheapskates and greasers.

Darry and Sarah exchanged a stunned glance that quickly dissolved into a fit of laughter.

"See, Soda, told you they'd be havin' a good time. And look, they ordered us dinner." The familiar voice brought their laughter to a sudden halt. Sarah was wiping the tears from her eyes as she turned her attention to the crowd that had gathered around their food. Or rather, the crowd that had begun to devour their food.

"Put. The. Milkshake. Down." Darry said coolly, his voice cutting through the racket with ease and precision. Sarah tried not to laugh at the confused expression on Two-Bit's face as he slowly placed the glass back on the table.

"And the pizza," Darry added steadily. Like he was handling a bomb, Two-Bit carefully returned the slice to the box and closed the lid. He stepped back, his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

Two-Bit was joined by Sodapop and Steve and three girls Sarah didn't recognize. The tallest girl, a striking brunette, didn't look too thrilled to be there.

"Bowling? Steve you promised me a nice night out." Her arms were crossed and she was tapping her foot on the wooden floor, impatient as all get out and apparently a little angry. Steve put an arm around her shoulders, but her expression hardened.

"Easy, Evie. If you're gonna blame anyone, blame Soda. This was his idea." Evie rolled her eyes as Steve gently steered her towards the seats circling the lane Sarah and Darry were using.

The rest of the gang followed, filling the chairs. Sarah looked at Darry and raised her eyebrows. Their date had suddenly turned into a gathering.

Darry closed his eyes and started muttering something under his breath. Sarah wasn't sure, but it sounded like he was counting. He reached the number ten, stopped, took a deep breath, and turned to his brother.

"Soda …"

* * *

Tom reached into his pocket and withdrew a lighter. He flicked it open, the flame illuminating his face in the dark. The end of his cigar glowed softly as he drew in a couple of puffs, filling the room instantly with smoke. 

"Thought tonight was poker night," Johnny said, eyeing the cigar skeptically. Tom never smoked in the house, Mary wouldn't let him. Tom reasoned that Mary wouldn't be back for a few hours and all evidence would be gone. _Right_, Johnny thought but didn't say anything. She'd know the minute she stepped into the house what he'd been up to.

Mary had left a little while ago for her monthly book club meeting, clutching a tray of brownies and a pristine copy of some book called _Rebecca_. Johnny had asked her if it was any good and she had waved her hand absentmindedly and chuckled, but never actually answered the question. He had a feeling she hadn't read it, which didn't make any sense since it was for a book club where they presumably talked about books.

"Jimmy's wife made him take her out to dinner. It's their anniversary," Tom explained. "Jimmy was not happy about that. _I_ was not happy about that. I cleaned up last week and was looking forward to taking everybody's money again this week."

Tom stood up and knelt down by the television, continuing to talk over his shoulder.. "You guys ever want to learn how to play poker, let me know."

Pony and Johnny shared an quick, amused glance while Tom was distracted, fiddling with the volume knob. "That sounds like a great idea, Mr. Martin. Me and Johnny wouldn't mind getting a few pointers. Maybe you guys could deal us in some night - that would be cool, huh Johnny?"

"Uh, sure. I mean, how hard can it be?" Johnny had to dig his fingernails into the palm of his hand in order to keep from grinning. For some reason, his poker face only ever worked while playing poker.

"School starts on Monday?" Tom asked, changing the subject as the movie went to a commercial. Johnny resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Tom knew full well that school started on Monday. This was just his way of making him talk about it. He was tired of talking about it and thinking about it, he just wanted to get it over with.

"Yeah, junior year," Pony said, his voice laced with excitement. Aside from the Socs, Ponyboy actually liked school. Johnny had always hated it, feeling stupid and out of place. These last few months of studying at home, though, had been like the key to some lock in his brain had been turned. Everything was making more sense and he was getting stuff right for the first time in his life.

He finished the school year with three B's and two C's. Any other year, he would have been relieved to get a report card without any F's. B's were unheard of. He would never admit it to anyone, but he was proud of what he had accomplished. Now he was afraid it would all start to slip out of his grasp again, that he would go back to being that screw up in the back row.

He wasn't sure what he was more afraid of - getting around school in a wheelchair while everyone stared at the crippled kid, facing down Bob's friends and any other angry Socs who felt they had a score to settle, or getting back his first test and seeing a big red F, validating what his parents and teachers had been telling him since kindergarten - that he was dumb and would never amount to anything. It was definitely a tossup, one he was tired of worrying about.

"Yeah, Monday," he said quietly, "can't wait."

* * *

Now Sarah was losing to seven people instead of just one. 

The other girls looked just as thrilled as she did to be there but at least they managed to knock down a few pins. The boys, however, didn't notice that their companions would rather be anywhere else but there. They were whooping and hollering and making a general spectacle out of themselves. Well, at least Two-Bit was, but that didn't come as any sort of surprise.

An old Chuck Berry song came on and Two-Bit pulled his girlfriend, Kathy, up from her chair. She followed reluctantly as he persuaded her to do some sort of weird version of the twist. It wasn't long before the cute blonde was laughing and spinning around with just as much enthusiasm as her boyfriend.

The crowd in the adjoining lane was clapping along, encouraging them. Soda grabbed the hand of the girl he was with - Jenny, Sarah thought he'd said. She shyly ducked her head and her movements were awkward to say the least.

Sarah glanced at Darry who was shaking his head in amusement. He must have felt her eyes on him because he turned his head slowly, meeting her gaze. He looked a little terrified. "You don't wanna …" his voice trailed off.

"God, no," she said with a laugh and Darry looked like he was about to melt into his seat with relief.

Steve looked at Evie who was studying her manicure, which was now chipped and peeling, courtesy of the bowling ball. "No," was all she said, her mouth forming a tight line as her eyes narrowed. She crossed her legs, a move that seemed impossible in her tight black skirt.

Steve didn't say anything as he leaned back in his chair, deftly sliding one arm around Evie's shoulders. She stiffened and scooted up in her seat, a move that Steve either didn't notice or chose to ignore.

"Come on, baby," Steve started, his voice low. Evie didn't answer, but her leg started bouncing up in down in an angry rhythm.

The song came to an end and another started. It was _Rock around the Clock. _Kathy was headed for the chairs, out of breath and a little wobbly, when Two-Bit reached out and grabbed her arm. "Where do you think you're goin'?" Two-Bit asked with a grin when Evie stood up suddenly, knocking Steve off balance.

"To the ladies room," she announced, grabbing Kathy's other arm. There was a brief moment where it looked like Kathy was going to be the prize in a tug-of-war, but Two-Bit relented and dropped her arm. Kathy mouthed the word _Sorry _to her boyfriend and comically rolled her eyes as the leggy brunette pulled her toward the bathroom. Jenny followed, though Sarah wasn't quite sure why since the other girls had barely acknowledged her all evening.

Sarah stood up and Darry looked up at her. "You, too?"

"I'm not being nosy," she started to explain.

Darry grinned. "Right."

He was going to make her say it, wasn't he? Well, it would serve him right. She pointed over to the half eaten food and scattered drinks on the table behind them.

"Two beers, remember?" She was rewarded with a slight blush that crept into his cheeks.

"Right," he repeated as he looked down, suddenly interested in checking the math on everyone's scores.

The ladies room was full of smoke and Sarah had to stifle a cough when she opened the door. Evie looked her up and down as she entered the room.

"Well, look here, it's the librarian," she said in a snide tone.

"Social worker," she corrected her, though she wasn't sure why she bothered.

Evie turned around, her back to Sarah as she flicked some ashes into the sink. "Good for you," she said with a shrug.

Kathy nudged her friend in the arm. "Be nice."

"Is everything okay?" Sarah couldn't help asking - part of it was concern and part of it probably was nosiness, if she was being honest with herself. She could really be too much like her dad sometimes.

"Everything is fine," Kathy said in a calming tone as she rubbed Evie's arm.

Evie laughed bitterly. "Yeah, just fine - if you want to call my complete asshole of a boyfriend fine."

Sarah remained silent, having learned from her dad that sometimes it was best to just step back and let the suspect talk himself into a confession.

"Sweetie, you don't know for sure …" Kathy said. Jenny was completely silent and Sarah had almost forgotten she was there.

"Oh, I know. I found the box, remember. And he tried to casually mention how special tonight was. I even got dressed up."

Sarah tried not to be too obvious as she surveyed this girl's idea of "dressed up". Tight black skirt, paired with an equally tight hot pink blouse that was unbuttoned low enough to be just this side of obscene, and bowling shoes. Okay, the bowling shoes were beside the point. Sarah could remember the three inch heels she had arrived in and her feet ached just thinking about them.

"He's changed his mind. I know it." Evie braced her hands on the sink and stared into the mirror. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Kathy laughed suddenly. "Bowling does not equal backing out."

"Well, I hope you're right because if Steve Randle doesn't ask me to marry him soon, I'm going to have to kill him."

* * *

_The Wolfman _had ended and now they were watching _The Creature From the Black Lagoon._ The monster was slowly creeping up behind an unsuspecting woman, ready to snatch her and drag her into the water. Minus the fur, it was almost the exact same thing they just finished watching. 

"Is it the new tutor?" Pony asked as he dug into the bag of pretzels. They'd finished off the popcorn and had moved onto pretzels and potato chips.

"What?" Johnny asked.

"Is that what's bugging you about Monday?"

"No, that's not it. I'd kind of forgotten about that, so thanks for bringing it up," he said with a grimace.

"You're welcome," Pony answered with a grin as he returned his attention to the movie.

Tom was watching the exchange from his seat, Johnny could feel him staring at him, looking for clues. It didn't happen often, but every once in a while Tom would make him feel like he was on trial for something - something he was pretty sure he was guilty of although he had no idea just what it was he was supposed to have done.

"Ponyboy, I'm think there might be another jar of popcorn hidden behind some stuff in the cupboard. Mind checking and maybe making a fresh batch? These chips are stale," Tom said as he dropped the bag of chips on the coffee table and wiped the grease from his hands onto the chair.

Pony looked from the TV screen to Tom and back again. "Uh, sure." He sounded a little reluctant as he got up from the couch and headed for the kitchen, his feet dragging. Johnny wasn't surprised when Tom leaned over the arm of his chair and looked him directly in the eye.

"Okay, kid, time to spill."

"I'm fine," Johnny said without hesitation and Tom groaned.

"Jesus, if I had a dime for every time you gave me that answer, I'd be a rich man."

What was he supposed to say? That he was scared? That was sure tough.

"It's not a big deal. I'll get through it," he said quietly.

"You do that a lot, don't you? Get through things?"

Johnny just shrugged. Crappy or not, he really just wanted to watch the movie.

"When Sarah asked us to be foster parents, I was against it at first," Tom admitted, staring at the bottle he was holding, peeling the label off. "We had a tough go of it last year and I didn't want to bring another kid into this house and risk opening up just-healed wounds. Or, hell, risk creating new ones."

Johnny stared at Tom, taken aback by his sudden confession. Tom never really talked about himself before, a fact Johnny hadn't thought about until just then. This house felt more like a home to him than the one he grew up in, but he was essentially living with strangers.

Tom continued, the usual gruffness gone from his voice. "I guess what I'm tryin' to say is that I'm glad we decided to go through with it."

"I'm glad, too," Johnny said quietly, absentmindedly picking at the edge of the arm of the couch.

"So, you can trust me with anything. I won't ever get mad, or make you feel stupid, or ridicule you. You understand that, right?"

"Sure, I understand …"

"Well?" Tom prompted not too subtlety.

"I'm --"

"Fine … I know," Tom finished for him with a frustrated sigh.

A loud crash sounded from the kitchen, followed by a string of curses and the faint smell of something burning. Pony came stumbling into the family room, a strange look on his face - kind of a mixture of fear and embarrassment.

"Uh, Mr. Martin … you wouldn't by any chance have a fire extinguisher handy, would you?"

* * *

"You were going to what?" Darry's voice rose in disbelief. 

"Steve was gonna ask Evie to marry him tonight. Weren't ya, Steve?" Soda nudged his friend who remained stony faced, staring straight ahead. "Then he chickened out."

That got Steve's attention. "I did not chicken out," he said, his voice like granite. Suddenly, a loud clucking sounded behind them.

"Two-Bit," Steve said steadily without looking behind him at the culprit, "remember how I worked on my uncle's farm a few summers back? Had to ring the necks of a bunch of those chickens. Yeah, got pretty good at it, too."

Two-Bit's last _Cluck_ trailed off - a sad, dejected sound. Obnoxious laughter quickly replaced it and Darry looked to see who the source was.

Two-Bit was leaning against the wall, bent slightly at the waist as he whispered something in the ear of some ditzy looking broad with teased blonde hair. Apparently, what he was saying was the funniest thing she'd ever heard because she didn't stop giggling the whole time he was talking to her. She was leaning heavily on his arm, her generous assets brushing against his chest in what was probably the most blatant come-on Darry had ever seen.

At the precise moment Darry realized the girls hadn't returned from the ladies room yet, an angry voice blurted out, "You've got to be kidding me." Well, they'd obviously come back and Kathy was obviously not happy about what she saw.

She stormed over to a crowded table full of a bunch of older greasers, grabbed their pitcher of beer, and marched over to her boyfriend and the ditz. Two-Bit was too busy telling cheesy jokes and looking down the low-cut sweater of his new friend to realize what was about to happen. One minute he was laughing and flirting, and the next he was showering in beer.

"What the hell?" he sputtered.

"You are an idiot," Kathy punctuate each word with a shake of the pitcher, forcing every last drop to land on top of his head.

"Kath, it's not what it looks like."

"You know, that starts to sound like a lie after I've heard it for the twentieth time."

"But --"

She cut him off, tossing her hair over her shoulder and placing a hand on her hip. "We're through, I mean it this time."

Steve discreetly slipped a five out of his pocket and passed it onto to Soda. "Damn it, I had next week," he groaned.

Soda grinned as he pocketed the money. "Nah, that would've been three months. They've never lasted three months."

Steve was about to say something else when Evie stepped up next to him, her hand out, palm up. "Keys. Now," she said sharply.

"Right," Steve snorted, but she didn't budge.

"Now."

Rolling his eyes, he dug into the front pocket of his jeans and reluctantly pulled out the keys to his car. She snatched them from his hand before he could change his mind.

"It's still early. It ain't time to go home," he protested.

"You can walk home for all I care. I'm going home, in your car, without you in it." She leaned down and grabbed her purse and heels from under one of the chairs. "Kathy, grab your stuff, we're leaving."

Evie started to leave and then stopped and looked at Jenny, who was surveying the scene with wide eyes. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights, rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do. Darry had no idea when Soda had started dating her. He could have sworn that Soda was dating someone named Candy last week, and there was a girl named Carol a month ago that he swore he was serious about. Soda's life had become a revolving doll of girls - all tiny blonde's with bright blue eyes. They were all carbon copies of Sandy, a fact he was positive had escaped his brother's notice.

Evie grabbed Jenny by the arm. "Come on, you're coming with us."

The three girls quickly left, leaving behind a trio of bewildered boyfriends. Steve kept staring at his hand like the keys would magically reappear. Two-Bit didn't even try to mop up the beer and a large puddle was forming under the chair he was currently slouched in.

Soda kept staring at the exit, his brow furrowed in confussion. "I can't believe they took Jamie with them."

"Jenny," Darry and Sarah both said simultaneously.

"Huh?" Soda said, blinking slowly.

"Jenny," Darry explained with a sigh, "her name is … oh, forget it."

Sarah walked over and sat down in the chair next to him. She had an amused expression on her face. He wasn't sure what her reaction to everything was going to be - he was glad to see the smile.

"Interesting night," she said, the wryness in her voice making him grin. She leaned into him a little and he instinctively placed his arm around her shoulders. She didn't push him away or stiffen like he was afraid of. Instead she melted into him, like she belonged there.

"Yeah. Say, what are you doing next week?" he asked with a laugh, resting his chin on top of her head.

"Uh, Darry," Soda asked, loudly clearing his throat. "We kind of need a ride home."

Darry started to count again under his breath and he felt Sarah shaking in his arms, laughing.

"One, two, --"

* * *

O 

O

O

_A/N - Sorry this took so long to write. It just kept going, and going, and going ... Anyway, thanks again for all the great reviews - you guys have been terrific. And in case you missed it, I posted a one-shot about Two-Bit a couple of months ago. It's called "Well, What Happened Was"._


	39. Chapter 39

Note: I don't own The Outsiders or That Was Then, This Is Now

**Chapter 39**

"Trash takes the side entrance. You boys know that." The body blocking the ramp was joined by three more.

The arrogant, privileged voice was at odds with the jeans and tennis shoes they were all wearing. Of course their jeans and sneakers were in pristine condition, not a speck of dirt or a smudge of oil anywhere to be seen. Pony told him the Socs were starting to dress more like greasers every day. He wouldn't have believed him if he didn't have the evidence standing in front of him, blocking the only entrance the school had with wheelchair access.

His hands gripped the wheels of his chair, the rims digging into his palms. He tried to keep his face blank, not let his panic show. And boy did he feel panicked, it washed over him, stealing his breath. He hadn't felt like that in a long time. It was like the Martins had created some sort of bubble around him, a bubble where he could forget about things like Socs and getting jumped and worrying about what lurked behind every corner.

It would be so easy to just turn around, to escape. No one would say anything, no one would call him a coward. At least not to his face.

He wished he could say something. Make a witty reply to show those guys that what they said didn't matter to him, that he never gave them a second thought. But his voice was paralyzed, caught in his throat. If he tried to talk, he'd probably stutter and stumble over his words, making a fool out of himself.

"Well, don't let us keep you, then. The door's right over there. If ya hurry, you might make it before the garbage truck shows up." _Two-Bit_, Johnny thought as he tried to not let his relief show. Leave it to Two-Bit to know just what to say.

Ponyboy was also there, standing next to him, but so far he'd kept his mouth shut. Johnny wasn't sure, but it seemed like Pony had stopped breathing altogether and his back was ramrod straight. He was just as scared as he was. They'd expected a run-in, they just figured it wouldn't happen before they even made it through the front door.

"You think you're funny?" the one Soc asked Two-Bit as another made a show of cracking his knuckles.

"Nah, I _know _I'm funny. You guys, however, aren't - just in case we weren't clear on that," Two-Bit said as he took a step forward, coming out from behind Johnny's chair. Johnny watched as Two-Bit slowly dragged his hand around to his back, hovering above his pocket. The threat was wordless, but there was no doubting what the gesture meant. _Not again_, was all Johnny could think as he watched Two-Bit's hand inch closer to the switchblade he kept in his pocket.

It was a new one, meant to replace the one Dally lost to the cops the night of the shooting. Two-Bit had shown it to him and Pony just the other day, bragging about snatching it from right under old man Fry's nose while his back was turned at the corner store. Johnny pretended to be in awe, told him it was cool, but the sight of that blade caused his heart to pound in his chest. He just wanted all the fighting to be over, for them to live like normal kids with normal problems.

"Is something going on here?"

* * *

Being rescued by Principal Clark was not exactly something Johnny would label as cool. Far from it, actually. But it got him into the building without a war breaking out, so he supposed he should be grateful for that. After the Socs walked off, snickering to one another, Clark turned to them and had the nerve to tell them that any other incidents and he would seriously consider pulling Johnny out of school. It was like the other guys didn't even exist. 

Two-Bit said he figured the whole thing would blow over in a week - there'd eventually be something more interesting for everyone to focus on. Johnny hoped so, but he just didn't see how his nerves could take actually waiting out a whole week.

The rest of the day was just as painful, in that awkward, ungainly way he had gotten used to months ago. People stared, people gawked, people whispered and pointed. He had to admit that part of it had to be paranoia - not everyone was paying attention to him. It just felt like that.

They put him in a couple of classes with Ponyboy - smart classes. He figured it was because of his grades from last year and he found himself wishing he hadn't tried so hard.

He was out of his element with the Socs and middle class kids. Pony fit much better than he did, that much was obvious. He'd been in classes with these guys for years now, so they more or less accepted him, ignoring the grease and his worn clothing. But Johnny didn't know how to act around them, how to sit next to a pretty girl in class, one with bouncy blonde hair and a soft pink sweater. Shoot, he barely knew what to say to a greaser girl, much less one who had hearts drawn all over her notebook.

He had his nails chewed ragged by second period.

* * *

Johnny heard the laughter and the applause before he made it through the door - apparently something really funny was happening on the other side. He couldn't imagine what; History was just about the dullest class he could think of. Every year they seemed to start at the same place in time and every year they barely made it past the Civil War. It's like the last one hundred years never happened. 

He shouldn't have been surprised to see Two-Bit near the back, grinning from ear to ear, receiving multiple pats on the back and handshakes of congratulations. The weird thing was he noticed Two-Bit before he noticed the truly strange thing in the room. Mr. Lockwood's desk was - well, it was where it was supposed to be, but it was turned upside down. The real clincher was the fact that whoever had done it - not that there was much doubt who that person could be - had managed to balance Lockwood's nameplate carefully on one of the thin metal legs of the upturned desk.

Johnny couldn't recall seeing a teacher's face turn quite so red before.

"Mathews," the guy ground out between clenched teeth and Two-Bit sprang from his seat and saluted. Johnny fought the urge to groan and hang his head.

"Detention, Mathews."

"Yes, sir," Two-Bit said with a grin as he made his way toward the door. When he reached Johnny's chair he leaned down and whispered, "Completely worth it, huh kid?"

Johnny's answer was a feeble smile.

"Principal's office, now Mathews," Lockwood barked out.

Two-Bit stood, gave the class one last salute, flashed a peace sign and made his way out the door. All Johnny could think as heard Two-Bit's heavy footsteps echo down the hall was that there went his ride home for the day.

* * *

The library was quiet and practically empty. And after the day he'd been having, those were two things Johnny would count in its favor. 

This was his last period of the day and one the school had set aside for him to meet with his new tutor. Normally, he'd be leaning against the outside wall in gym class, trying to sneak a smoke with Ponyboy as some Socs picked team members for dodge ball or some other form of organized torture. Poor Ponyboy was going to have to suffer through gym class without him this year.

The librarian barely glanced up from the newspaper she was reading as he made his way past her desk toward the back of the room, near the windows. He piled up his books and notebook on an empty table and then waited, his gaze following the couple of girls who walked by, wondering who he was going to be stuck studying with for the next year.

Part of him wanted to tell Sarah to just forget it. He could just go back to those dumb classes, he was fine with that. He didn't need special attention, couldn't even figure out why anyone would think he deserved it. He could handle D's and F's, they weren't a big deal. Then he thought about that last report card and how he'd felt smart for the first time in his life as he looked down at those grades. For the first time he could understand why school meant so much to Ponyboy and why he worked so hard at it.

He must have been daydreaming for a minute or two because he didn't even notice the girl step up to his table and set her books down. It was when she cleared her throat and pulled out at chair to sit down that he finally realized someone was standing there.

"Hey," was all he managed to say, the word raspy and thin sounding to his ears.

"You're Johnny, right?" the girl asked brightly as she took the seat next to his.

He reached out and started to straighten the edges of his books absentmindedly, his gaze fixed on the table. He knew what he was doing, but he couldn't force himself to look up and he felt that cursed hotness start to flood his cheeks.

It was weird, but he could feel her smiling. "You're name is Johnny? I'm at the right table?" she persisted

"Yeah," he finally answered.

She cleared her throat and he could tell he was making her uncomfortable, making an awkward situation even more awkward by letting his shyness win out. He took a deep, steadying breath and forced himself to look up at her.

She was pretty, with long dark hair and kind eyes that looked to be a shade of gray. He couldn't recall ever seeing gray eyes before. Hers were big and open, like she hadn't been beat down by life over and over again. She looked sort of familiar, but he couldn't quite place her. He couldn't remember ever seeing her in school before, but then again, he never really looked too closely at faces before, either.

She smiled, a nice smile that really lit up her face. "My name is Cathy, Cathy Carlson. Your mom said you needed a tutor for the school year. I talked to her at the hospital; I work at the snack bar there, but could always use some extra money."

"She's not my mom," he said suddenly, without thinking.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought …" her voice trailed off.

"She's my foster mom," he said, not sure why he felt the need to explain.

"Oh, have you been with her long?"

He looked at her carefully. "Weren't you around last year?"

She shook her head slowly. "No, I was away at school. Why - did something happen I should know about?"

"You could say that," he said under his breath as he reached for the first book on the stack, something to take his mind off the way she was looking at him.

* * *

Cathy was still at his side when he made his way out of the building. The final bell had rung and now he was left with two options - wait for Two-Bit to get out of detention or find another ride home. He was resigned to the fact that he was going to have to sit around for an hour until Two-Bit made his late appearance. And he'd have to do it alone since Pony had track practice and tryouts after school today. 

He stopped his chair a little off to the side, not too far from Two-Bit's beat-up Plymouth. Cathy stopped, too. He wasn't sure why. It made it look like they were leaving together, when the truth was they just happened to be going in the same direction. At least that was what he had thought.

A group of girls happened by, a couple of them looking back at him and Cathy, their heads leaning together as they said something and laughed. He forced himself to sit a little straighter in his chair as he tried to ignore them.

"So," Cathy said suddenly, pulling his attention away from the people milling about.

"Huh?" he said, trying not to wince at how stupid he sounded.

"So - tomorrow, right? And then we'll work out when I can stop by your house on the weekends." She was smiling again and he just kept his face blank.

"Sure. Tomorrow."

She readjusted the stack of books in her arm and shifted the strap of her purse. "And tomorrow, Johnny, you are gonna say more than five sentences to me, even if I have to drag them out of you."

She laughed as she walked away, heading for the school buses. A smaller kid came up to her and she threw her arm around his shoulders. He had on a green army jacket and his hair was the same dark shade as hers, almost black. He realized why she looked familiar, it was the kid. He was always hanging out at the bowling alley, hogging the pinball machine whenever Johnny had a couple of quarters to waste on it. He was a weird kid and coming from him, that was really saying something.

The cars cleared out and he found himself wishing he still smoked. A cigarette would at least pass the time.

A black GTO pulled up a few spaces away from him, screeching to a clumsy halt. Johnny leaned forward, trying to get a good look at the driver as the door opened and Dally stepped out.

Dally stood for a minute, a faint breeze whipping through his ungreased hair. He was squinting at the sunlight and seemed to be looking for someone, scanning the parking lot. He saw Johnny and grinned.

"Hey, kid. Long time no see," he said as he ambled over to where Johnny was sitting.

"Hey, Dal," Johnny said, relieved to see Dally in one piece. He hadn't seen him since that day after he'd been staying with the Curtises, when he'd been nursing a concussion and spilt open head. He should have known Dallas would be fine, it took a lot to knock him down.

"So school, huh?" Dally asked, pulling out a cigarette from a pack and lighting it.

"Yeah, school. What brings you here?" Johnny asked. Dallas Winston hadn't stepped foot in a school in ages and it was the popular consensus that the Tulsa school system was grateful to him for making that decision.

Dally shrugged and blew out a cloud of smoke. "Nothing really. Shepard just has me meeting his stupid brother here for something. Not sure what and I'm a little pissed that he isn't here to meet me. Supposed to be here twenty minutes ago."

"But, Dal --" Johnny started.

"Yeah, I know - I just got here. So where is the little prick?"

"Could be he's in detention with Two-Bit," Johnny offered and tried not to laugh as Dally obviously didn't take that news too well.

"On the fucking first day? Yeah, it'd be just like him," he said with a cynical laugh. "So is that why you're sittin' out here, waiting for Mathews and his stupid ass?"

Johnny grinned and nodded.

Dally looked around again, still scanning the few students left now that most everyone had cleared out. He ran his hand through his hair and tossed his cigarette onto the ground, grinding it out with the toe of his boot.

"Fuck this. Kid, you want a ride?"

* * *

_O_

_O_

_O_

_O_

_O_

_A/N - I'm sorry it took so long to update - the holidays were tough this year at work. Anyway, as you can see, I brought in some characters from That Was Then, This Is Now. I thought it would be fun to make Cathy Johnny's tutor since she is an English teacher in Tex. So Mark and Bryon might make appearances in future chapters, too. And don't worry, there will definitely be more Dally and Johnny in the next chapter, I promise. _

_Oh - and if you like Four Brothers, I started a story for that category a couple of months ago._


	40. Chapter 40

**Note: I don't own The Outsiders **

**Chapter 40**

The newsman droned on about the weather and the traffic. Dally sighed impatiently and reached forward, spinning the dial until some music spilled from the speakers. News. Commercial. Some chick singing about her loser boyfriend. News. The Beatles. The stupid radio was not cooperating and Dally bit off a curse as he shut it off, plunging the car into silence.

Figuring he could use a smoke, he pushed the dashboard lighter in with a little more force than was necessary as he looked out of the corner of his eye at his passenger. Johnny was staring straight ahead, quieter than Dally could ever remember him being. It didn't help that things got off to such an awkward start.

It wasn't like he knew how the hell to help someone into a car when they couldn't move their legs. Johnny tried to convince him that he didn't need help, that he could do it just fine on his own. In retrospect, he should have listened to him. He just fucked up everything, accidentally knocking Johnny onto the hard pavement. The kid was embarrassed, he could tell. Hell, he was embarrassed for him. He went to help, but Johnny waved him off, pulling himself up into the car. It was a bit of a struggle but he managed it far more gracefully than Dally could have imagined. Shoot, he'd seen drunk guys at Buck's that had more trouble getting into their cars after a particularly wild night.

One hand on the steering wheel, he blindly groped with the other for the handle on the door and cracked the window a couple of inches. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a cigarette but didn't light it, the lighter still stubbornly heating up. At this rate, he'd have Johnny home and be halfway to Buck's before the damn thing was finished.

Some of the houses started to look familiar and Dally realized they were only a couple of streets away from Johnny's foster home. _The cop_, Dally remembered, a sly grin turning up the corner of his mouth.

Johnny shifted his books on his lap and Dally noticed he was tapping his fingers on the cover of the top book. A nervous habit that Dally recognized immediately. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but closed it immediately when his mind went blank.

"Sorry about back there," he finally said and Johnny shrugged.

"No big deal, man. I've fallen out of the chair before. Wasn't the first time, won't be the last," he said quietly. Dally tightened his grip on the steering wheel, not really liking his answer.

"School okay?" Dally asked, wincing at how stupid the question sounded to his ears. When had Dallas Winston ever given a damn about school? Christ, why couldn't he just talk to Johnny like he always did?

"School's fine," Johnny said, shrugging again. Now the kid was biting his nails.

_Bullshit, school's fine_, he wanted to respond with, but held back.

Johnny's house came into view, and he was saved from having to think of something else to say. It pissed him off that he felt relieved.

He turned into the driveway, parking behind a fairly nice Buick. He realized someone was opening the door. They must have pulled in just before he did. It was the lady, what's-her-name? Marge or something.

She'd spotted the Pontiac and was making her way over, smiling as she walked to Johnny's side of the car. Johnny wound down his window as she came near.

"Hi, honey," she said sweetly and Dally fought the urge to snicker.

"Hi, Mary. Do you, um, remember Dal?" Johnny stammered slightly and Dally noticed that he now had a death grip on his books.

"Yes, of course." Her voice cooled slightly as her attention turned toward him. "Hello, Dallas. It's nice to see you."

Johnny coughed suddenly and Dally grinned at the kid's unease. Just at that moment, the lighter popped out. He grabbed it and casually lit the cigarette he'd been holding onto, letting it dangle out of the corner of his mouth.

"Nice to see you, too, Mrs. … uh, Martin," he replied in an exhale of smoke. "How are things hangin' on the lawful side of town?"

Mary shook her head, smiling slightly. "Things are hanging just fine. How are you doing, Dallas?"

"Haven't been arrested for a while, so that's good. I guess."

"I suppose that's one way to look at it." Damn broad was pretty quick, he'd give her that. He supposed being the wife of a cop meant she wasn't easily shocked. Well, he'd have to try harder then.

"Dally was just giving me a ride home," Johnny jumped in before he had a chance to say anything else.

"I thought Keith was going to bring you home."

"Yeah, well --" Johnny started hesitantly.

"Keith fucked up," Dally finished for him.

"Oh, you know Tom or I would have come to get you," she said as she started to open the door, but Dally reached over and grabbed the handle and pulled on it until the door latched.

"Actually, Johnny just wanted to stop by and let you know that me and him are gonna hit some places first. Ya know - hang out and grab some food. Nothing too exciting," Dally said suddenly, not really sure where the words were coming from. He sure as hell hadn't planned on hanging out. He still had to track down Curly Shepard and find out what his brother wanted.

"We are?"

"You are?" Johnny and Mary spoke simultaneously.

Dally flicked his ashes out window. "Yeah, kid. Don't you remember? You yammered on and on about it the whole way here." He leaned forward, toward Mary. "You know how it is, sometimes you just can't shut the kid up."

He caught Johnny rolling his eyes, but he was smiling for the first time since getting in the car.

"You don't mind, do you Mary?" Johnny asked hopefully.

Mary looked first at Dally, then at Johnny. She reached in and grabbed his books from his lap.

"I'm guessing you won't need these."

"He better not," Dally said, tossing the remainder of his cigarette out the window.

"Home by eight," she said, taking a step back from the car as Dally started to rev the engine.

"Sure thing, Mrs. Martin. Home by nine," he said over the roar of the engine.

* * *

"What'll it be?" the waitress sighed and Dally grinned as he leaned back in his seat, making a show of studying the menu. He had chosen the rundown diner when Johnny couldn't think of any place for them to eat. This place was fine with Johnny - not as rough as The Dingo could sometimes get, and he didn't feel like sitting in the car to eat at Jay's. 

"Let me think on that." Dally rocked his chair back onto two legs and rubbed his chin like he was trying to solve the hardest math problem in the world. "What'll it be? What'll it be? Ya know, I'm not sure. What's good?"

"You're in here at least once a week," she said, her eyes narrowing. "You always order a burger and fries. Always. And then you ask for no pickle so that you can complain that there's no pickle when the plate arrives," she added, sounding more bored than annoyed. Johnny found himself grinning. He'd forgotten how much fun it was to go out and eat with Dally. He considered annoying waitresses an art form, one he worked on perfecting every chance he got.

"Maybe I'm up for something new," Dally said with a sly wink, leaning in closer, his voice dropping an octave. "You got any suggestions?"

"Yeah, try Jay's down the street," she said dryly and Dally barked out a laugh.

Shaking her head, the waitress turned her attention to Johnny. "How about you, kid?"

"A burger and a Pepsi," he answered quickly, trying not to laugh.

"Fries?" she asked and Johnny nodded mutely.

Tapping her pencil on her order pad, she turned her attention back to Dally who was back to his thoughtful disguise.

"Burger, fries, and a Pepsi … that sounds good. Ya know, I think I'll go with that."

"You don't say," she rolled her eyes and she jotted down his order.

"Yeah, but hold the --"

"Pickle," she interrupted, the point of the pencil digging into the paper, making a dark slash at the end of the "e". "Sure, whatever. No pickle."

Dally was still laughing as she turned on her heel and made her way to the kitchen. He dropped the menu on the table and grabbed a napkin, shredding it into strips as he watched her disappear behind the swinging doors.

"She falls for that every time," he said, shaking his head in amusement.

"I don't think she actually fell for anything, Dal," Johnny observed.

The door to the diner opened, tripping the bell hanging above it as more people spilled in, chattering and laughing. The booths were usually the first place to fill up but there was no room for Johnny's chair, so they were stuck in the back with the old people who were out to get the early bird special. Johnny looked around at the crowded dining room, realizing for the first time just how popular seventy-five cent meatloaf must be in this part of town.

"So life treatin' you okay, Johnnycake?" Dally asked, looking around at the people filling the tables. He nodded a greeting or two at some familiar looking greasers and sneered at an old lady who walked by, clutching her purse tightly to her chest as she eyed him suspiciously.

"Yeah, everything's good. School should be alright, I guess. They made me get a tutor."

"Yeah? That's cool," Dally said distractedly, still not really looking at Johnny.

"A girl," Johnny stated simply and that finally got Dally's attention.

"A chick?" Dally raised his eyebrows as Johnny's face reddened. "She hot?"

"Nah … I mean, I guess so. She's, um, she's real nice," he stammered, suddenly wishing he hadn't brought it up.

"Soc?" Dally asked.

"Nah, she's just a girl, not a Soc or a greaser. Just a girl," Johnny explained awkwardly.

"A _nice_ girl," Dally said with a wink and Johnny didn't answer. Dally leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Nice … I could work with nice. Nice could be fun. Like a challenge. Wonder how long it'd take to make her not nice?"

"Dal --"

"Geez, I'm just kidding. 'Sides, I've got my hands full with Sylvia. Don't need to add anymore grief to my life."

"Unless it was Cherry Valance," Johnny said quietly as the waitress returned with their drinks.

"What was that?" Dally asked, a shocked look on his face.

"What was what?" Johnny asked innocently, peeling the paper off his straw.

"You turnin' into some wiseass or something without me around?"

Johnny didn't answer, just grinned as he took a sip of his soda.

"Jesus, I'm out of it for a little while and you start making like you're goddamn Two-Bit or something," Dally said with a laugh, running his fingers through his hair.

"Well, you did break into her house," Johnny pointed out.

Dally shook his head and looked at the ceiling as though hoping for some divine intervention. "How many times do I have to say that I didn't know it was her fucking house?"

"I believe you," Johnny said and Dally narrowed his eyes, like he was trying to gauge whether or not he was telling the truth.

"So what have you been up to, Dal?" Johnny asked, changing the subject.

Dally sighed and leaned back in his chair but didn't say anything. He reached out and started rearranging the silverware on the table, the sound of metal hitting metal filling the silence . "Just hangin' out - you know, here and there," he finally said.

"Get in any good fights?"

"Nah," Dally said as he rubbed the back of his head, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly. "Well, except for the fiery redhead and her vase. Other than that, things have been boring. Though I may have to pound Shepard junior into the ground when I get a hold of him - just for the hell of it."

Dally started looking around the diner, his fingers tapping an annoyed rhythm on the table. "Man, where is that broad with our food? Service around here sucks."

"So nothing exciting?" Johnny interrupted Dally's rant about the food.

Dally shook his head. "Shepard keeps promising some huge score that he's got the inside track on. Been promising that for a while now. I'll believe it when I see it," he said with a scornful laugh.

Johnny didn't know what to say to that - he sure didn't like the sound of it. Sure, the guys liked to steal hubcaps and do some petty crime stuff, but Dally sounded like he meant something more than shaking down some old lady for her purse.

"It ain't dangerous, is it?" he found himself asking. He wasn't surprised when Dally waved it off and shook his head.

"It's more dangerous to hang out in the lot at night. Shepard is full of shit. He thinks this is the big time, but he's got another thing comin' to him."

"You could quit," Johnny said, not sure where that came from. No one ever really challenged Dally on his plans, no one.

"And do what? Bag groceries?"

"Sure, why not? Or you could talk to Darry. He could get you a job."

Dally laughed. "Hey, while I'm at it, why don't I talk to your foster dad about getting a job on the force. Officer Winston has a nice ring to it." Johnny didn't get a chance to respond - the waitress appeared, placing their plates on the table in front of them.

"Leave it alone, kid. The lion don't change his stripes," Dally said as he examined his plate. He looked up at the waitress who was standing there, obviously waiting for something, her hand behind her back.

"Hey," Dally said, his voice indignant, "you forgot the --" She dropped a small plate with a pickle on it in front of Dally and marched away, pulling out her tablet as she approached another table.

"Alright," he admitted, "I guess she ain't fallin' for it anymore."

* * *

"We got three hours before I gotta get you home in time for your curfew," Dally said, leaning up against his car as he took a long drag on his cigarette. 

"I don't have a curfew," Johnny said.

"Sure sounded like one to me," Dally said as he scuffed his boot on the pavement, sending a rock skidding into the tire of the car parked next to his. "How about Buck's."

Johnny's face lost all its color and Dally fought hard not to laugh at his reaction. "Buck's?" the kid practically stammered. "Uh, I don't know, Dal …"

Dally didn't get a chance to make his case for hanging out at Buck's because a familiar-looking car pulled into the parking lot. It was going too fast and came to a screeching halt, inches from the bumper of Dally's car.

"What the fuck?" Dally muttered around the cigarette hanging out of his mouth. The passenger side door opened and Curly Shepard stumbled out. Dally looked through the windshield and saw that Angela Shepard was the one driving, obviously stuck chauffeuring her brother around. He gave her a mocking wave and she gave him the finger.

"Dally, there you are. I've been all over town looking for you. Man, Tim's gonna kill me if I don't get his message to you," Curly said in a breathless rush as he made his way around the car, stopping in his tracks when he realized Dally wasn't alone.

"Hey, Johnny," he said with a lopsided smile, his urgent mission momentarily forgotten.

"Hey, Curly," Johnny replied.

"Did you see what Mathews did to Lockwood? That was some funny shit. I heard that his desk still ain't been put back --"

Dally loudly cleared his throat, interrupting Curly and his recounting of the day's events. "You don't spit out why you're here and your brother ain't gonna get the chance to kill you because I'm gonna beat him to it," he said menacingly as he stepped forward and ground his cigarette out on the hood of Angela's car.

Angela quickly wound down her window. "You son of a bitch," she screeched angrily, but Dally ignored her, taking a step toward her brother, ready to wring his neck if he didn't talk soon.

Curly's eyes shifted to Johnny, obviously uncomfortable about talking about business in front of him.

"Uh," Curly started carefully. "There's a meeting, uh, set for seven and Tim wants you to be there."

"A meeting? Where?" Dally asked and Curly handed over a folded piece of paper. Dally unfolded it. It had an address on it - downtown, the shitty part of downtown. Was this the action Tim had been hinting at? Was he finally trusting him enough to let him on the inside? He kept his face blank, not wanting Curly to see the adrenaline that was pumping through his veins.

He looked back at Johnny, suddenly feeling guilty.

"Johnny …" he started but Johnny shrugged.

"It's okay. I've got homework anyway. We gotta get going if you're gonna drop me off and get there by seven." He started pushing his chair, making his way to the other side of the car.

Dally caught up to him as Curly and Angela sped away, barely missing the street light as the car pulled out into traffic.

"Kid, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to ya," Dally said. "It's just this is business and …" He stopped, not liking that he felt the need to make excuses.

Johnny stopped and turned his chair to face him. "I understand. You've got some big meeting to go to and I've go homework. You don't owe me anything."

Johnny said it quietly, without accusation, but Dally could hear it anyway. He looked at the address again, it would be so easy to tear it up and walk away. Talk to Darry about a job, like Johnny said. Shit, even bagging groceries wouldn't be so bad.

It would be so easy - one rip and it would all go away and he could start fresh. Lead a normal life.

The thought only stayed with him for a moment before he pocketed the address, anticipation gripping him like Sylvia on a good night.

Normal was for losers.

* * *

_O_

_O_

_O_

_O_

_O_

_A/N - __Thanks again for all the great reviews and for sticking with this story for such a long time. I will try to get the new chapters up faster than I have been these last few months._


	41. Epilogue: Part One

_Really long A/N - I last updated Fences over a year ago and I have finally come to the realization that I will probably never go back to it. I feel really guilty, but I just seem to have moved on and can no longer write those guys the way they deserve to be written. Luckily, I did have an ending (mostly) written and I thought I'd share it with you guys._

_There's really not much of the remaining plot of Fences that comes into play - just that I intended for Dally to need to make a choice between doing the deal that was going to be set up with Tim or help Pony and Johnny who were inadvertently stumbling into danger because of Pony's friendship with Mark from TWTTIN. He does the right thing for once and decides to warn his friends, but that lands him on the bad side of the crime lord he'd been working with through Tim because Dally jeopardized his business. Realizing he'd painted a big target on his back, Dally decides to leave Tulsa. And that was the end. At least what I had planned ... I have a tendency to make things up as I go, but that was the general idea of how things would play out. _

**Epilogue: Part One  
**

**Ten Years Later**

"Okay everyone, I need you all to read the first two chapters over the weekend." An exaggerated groan rose up in the classroom as their teacher held up the book they were starting that night. "It's good. Trust me."

"That's what you said about _Tale of Two Cities. _Man, was that boring. Who cares about some stupid French guy?" The teacher grinned - that was Tommy. He complained about everything.

"Hey, I liked it." And that would be Jen. She was always enthusiastic and one of his best students.

"You like everything," Tommy countered and the class laughed, right on cue.

"This one isn't about some stupid French guy. It's about a teenager, about your age. In fact, the author was a Sophomore when he wrote it for a class just like this one." The teacher made his way to each row and handed over a stack of paperbacks for them pass to the students behind them. "It's about trying to belong and trying to survive when all you have are your friends to help you out."

"Alright, sounds a little better than that French dude," Tommy joked, his face lit up with a grin. For a split second, the teacher pictured another guy who always had a joke for every situation. Every class had one, he'd quickly come to realize when he started teaching five years ago. He couldn't really laugh along; naturally that would encourage bad behavior. But he always welcomed every quip and joke with a small smile.

He stopped at the last row. The kid there was intently digging the tip of a paperclip into the surface of his desk, etching something into the cheap laminate. Probably his name. In his day, it would have been done with a switchblade, but things have changed since then. The kid didn't look at him, apparently ignoring him. But he could tell by the set of his shoulders, the tenseness of his jaw, and the fact that the paperclip was now making a grinding sound with each stroke that he was completely aware of his presence. This would be Kevin. He was angry at the world and didn't hesitate to let everyone around him know that. The teacher held back a sigh of frustration. The more things change, the more they stay exactly the same.

He dropped the books on Kevin's desk, right on top of the K he had been working so diligently on. He realized long ago that with kids like Kevin, you couldn't show any weakness. They didn't respect that. There was a good kid in there, he knew it. It was going to take a lot of effort to get Kevin to realize that himself. He was going to take his time, he vowed. That vow grew stronger every time he glimpsed fresh set of bruises on his wrists or a scrape on his cheek.

The other teachers argued that he was a tough kid who got into fights constantly. That might be true, but his gut told him otherwise. It was all in the eyes - he'd seen that haunted, scared look before. Tough kids who beat up other tough kids didn't look at the world that way. They gazed back with cold, steely determination, daring anyone to challenge them. Kevin looked like he wanted the world to look past him, not notice him. Those bruises on his wrist were achingly familiar, too - the types of marks that come from control and domination, not mindless violence and roughhousing. Seeing those bruises sent chills down his spine.

He'd had his share of bad kids in class, of course. He could pinpoint them the moment they strolled through the door for the first time when the new school year started. They weren't there to learn. Their futures had nothing to do with a diploma. They were just killing time until their real interests started to pan out. Gangs and crime. Even out here in the country, you came across that kind of stuff. The city was nearby and Kevin was dangerously close to being swallowed whole by that world. A world with no future. A world with no hope. He knew it well. He'd come damn close to it himself.

Kevin picked up a copy, studied the red cover and flipped the book over to read the back. "What the hell kind of name is Ponyboy?" he mumbled to himself, tossing the book onto the desk like it was an afterthought.

The teacher grinned in response. "Well, it's an original name. You see - his dad was an original person." Kevin just rolled his eyes.

He noticed that a couple of the other students had started paging through the books, hopefully interested. He knew that the minute something became "homework" it instantly became "boring".

"Just pass the books back, Kevin," he said calmly as he made his way back to his desk. The final bell of the day rang and everyone started gathering up their stuff and filing out the door. A few students nodded goodbye and he acknowledged them with a smile.

"Hiya, Mrs. C.," he heard one of the guys say and he looked over at the woman standing in the doorway - his wife.

"Hi, Jeremy," she replied wryly, a knowing glint in her eye. He remembered her telling him that she thought Jeremy might have had a crush on her in her English class last year. It wasn't hard to see why. She was beautiful. Her black hair fell in soft waves around her striking face and her blue eyes just pulled you in and held your attention like you were the only person in the room. He couldn't blame Jeremy - he had a crush on her too, since the moment he met her.

Kevin was the last student to file out and he noticed her eyes following him out the door. The kid walked with a hunched slouch that every guy in his neighborhood had when he was growing up. Like the chip on your shoulder was so big you could barely support it. Kevin had the book shoved in his back pocket, almost like a dare - knowing his teacher would notice it.

His wife looked back at him, slightly shaking her head. "Your newest project, right?"

He just shrugged and started aimlessly pushing papers around on his desk, trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing. "I told you, Cathy, my gut is telling me something isn't right with that kid."

"And nobody else picked up on it?"

"Well, nobody else has the experience with it that I have," he admitted quietly.

Her expression softened and she moved over to him and motioned for him to push his chair back to give her room. She sat on his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him quick kiss.

"You have a soft heart, Johnny Cade," she said, resting her head on his shoulder and aimlessly twirling her fingers in the dark hair that curled against the nape of his neck. He blushed. He couldn't help it. All these years later and she could still make him blush like he was seventeen again. He also couldn't think of anything to say, which was something else she was expert at - rendering him speechless.

She reached over and picked up the book on his desk. "I still don't understand why he had to kill you and Dally off."

"I told you - his editor said it needed a bigger emotional punch at the end."

She winced. "But still - why you? Dal, I'm fine with --"

"Cathy," he interrupted with a startled laugh.

She lightly punched him in the arm. "I'm just kidding."

He raised his eyebrow, mimicking Two-Bit's signature move. "Right," he said slowly, with an exaggerated drawl.

He took the book from her and turned it over, reading the familiar description on the back. The story was important - greasers and Socs may not be around every corner anymore, but kids still had to deal with the same problems he and his friends had to deal with back then. Again, the more things change, the more they stay the same. Maybe reading it would convince a guy like Kevin that just because he'd been labeled a bad kid, didn't me he had to define that label. Johnny was living proof of that.

Nobody was more surprised than him when he decided to go to college. There were times there when he was certain he'd made a bad decision and was going to drop out. But, with the help of his friends and Tom and Mary, he stuck with it and persevered.

Reconnecting with Cathy was just an added bonus. Freshman year, she was in a couple of his classes and they latched onto one another - thrilled to see a familiar face. Their friendship came back with a vengeance and they spent all of their free time together. It wasn't long before friendship became something more, something deeper. He couldn't even pinpoint when it happened - it just did. Maybe it was a look, or a meaningful laugh, or a touch that lingered longer than normal. All he knew was that one second they were friends and the next second they weren't. Thinking back, maybe it was the kiss - yeah, the kiss definitely had something to do with it.

Early on, he decided on teaching. Something drew him to it. The irony wasn't lost on him, though - the guy who barely spoke and was afraid of everything was now leading discussions at the front of a room full of kids everyday. But he loved it. Something about the act of teaching made him forget for a moment that he was painfully shy and stuck in a wheelchair. Those books Ponyboy had brought to him in the hospital had been like a lifeline, something to focus on through the pain and struggles. That made choosing a focus easy. English. Maybe he could pass on his love of books the same way Pony passed it onto him.

Despite the importance of Pony's book and the relevance to his students, Johnny still found teaching it in class a difficult decision to make. The conversations the book generated were sure to be interesting and definitely uncomfortable. But the incidents of ten years ago were no secret around here. Everyone - students, faculty, parents - knew what happened and what his involvement in it was. Garyville was only twenty miles outside of Tulsa and it had been a huge news story. He may have stopped greasing his hair years ago and wore it much shorter, but he still looked almost exactly like his picture that ran in the papers all those years ago.

Just last year, he had a student whose sister had been in the church in Windrixville. She spent the first two weeks of school staring at him all through class. It had been a bit unnerving, to say the least; but he finally figured it out. When he asked her about it after class one day, she'd broken down in tears and told him how much her family owed him. It was a humbling moment.

"So, what do you think Ponyboy would say if he knew you were teaching his book to your class?" Cathy asked.

"A little embarrassed at first, but I'm pretty sure he'd be flattered," a familiar voice answered from the doorway.

"Ponyboy, I thought you weren't due in until tomorrow," Cathy said excitedly as she jumped up from Johnny's lap and gave Ponyboy a quick hug.

"I got done with the meetings with the publisher sooner than expected and figured I'd fly in early, surprise everyone." Pony explained as Cathy moved back, standing behind Johnny, her hand on his shoulder. Pony squinted suspiciously and grinned. "I wasn't interrupting anything, was I?"

It was Cathy's turn to blush.


	42. Epilogue: Part Two

_S__lightly shorter author's note: I don't own The Outsiders or Desperado by The Eagles. This is the last chapter. I had started to write one about all the guys, what they were up to, but it felt kind of forced and arbitrary, like I was pulling futures out of a hat. The only things set in stone were that Darry and Sarah got married and that Two-Bit was finally marrying Kathy (probably because of the tattoo, lol).  
_

** Epilogue: Part Two  
**

_Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?  
Come down from your fences, open the gate  
_

The Harley hugged the road as the lone rider leaned into the sharp curve. The wind whipped through his hair; his helmet attached to the back of the bike - his wife would bitch him out if she knew he wasn't wearing it.

It was so surreal out here – like he was driving through another world. Everything was so green and bright and alive that it almost hurt his eyes to look at it. Growing up, he'd been surrounded by cold and concrete. Later, he'd been consumed by trash and dust. Both places had suffocated him, trapped him. He never noticed it until later, until he'd finally gotten out of there.

The plan had been to head back to New York, to entrench himself in the crime and danger he'd grown up with. He'd tried to capture that back in Tulsa, but that was small time kid's stuff compared to New York. He was going to reconnect with old friends – hard-bitten bastards who made the Curtis gang look about as menacing as a pack of kittens. From day one, he'd been pegged as a no-good hoodlum – from his parents to his friends to his teachers to cops – all the way down the line, everyone saying he wasn't going to amount to nothing. He'd show them – show them just how deep he could sink, just how low he could get before he was swallowed whole, spit back out in a prison jumpsuit or a body bag.

Needless to say, the whole New York City crime spree idea wasn't the best plan in the world and certainly not a real tragedy when it didn't work out the way he hoped. Somehow he'd found himself stranded in a steel town in Pennsylvania. New York was only a few hours from where he was, but Buck's T-Bird was a broken-down piece of shit and he was completely tapped out and couldn't afford air for the tires, let alone the overhaul of the engine the damn thing needed.

He could have stolen the money for repairs, but the last thing he needed was to wind up locked up in Bumblefuck, Pennsylvania before he even crossed into Jersey. He needed money and he needed it fast. He was only going to stay a week, two tops, he'd told himself. He just needed to make some quick cash to fix up the car and get his ass to New York.

He found himself working at the local steel mill, not exactly his first choice but definitely the easiest place to get a job. The steel mill was always hiring temp workers and transients to help with the load. He was surprised to find himself enjoying it. He had never worked an honest day in his life and you couldn't get much more honest than hauling tons of steel all day. It wasn't long before two weeks stretched into three and then four and then months had gone by. The money was good. Not as good as it had been with Shepard, but those days were long gone.

Working in a steel mill had its dangers, and on more than one occasion he found himself in the local emergency room nursing an injury. It was during his first trip there that he crossed paths with Donna, an ER nurse who he tried unsuccessfully to antagonize. Something about him and nurses - he never met one he didn't try to piss off. Donna, though … man, she either had the toughest skin of anyone he'd known, or she was a master at hiding her anger. She didn't crack, not once. It became a challenge to him after that. He liked challenges.

It was on his third trip to the ER that he was certain he had finally pissed her off enough for her to notice him. It wasn't an angry expression or a heated word that tipped him off, though. No, it was huge, wide bore needle that had been jabbed without warning, Norman Bates-style into his ass cheek. His startled scream alerted several doctors and nurses who came running to the room, shocked to find him hopping around, bare-assed, as his nurse hung onto a chair, doubled-over with laughter.

He asked her out the next day and she shocked the hell out of him by saying yes.

And now they had kids - two of them - a boy and a girl. The girl was a troublemaker, like her dad. Someone out there had a fucked up sense of humor, saddling Dallas Winston with a miniature version of himself, granted one in pigtails and pink frilly clothes. His son, well his son wasn't like either him or Donna. Somehow they'd wound up with a little Ponyboy Curtis clone, studious and daydreamy, always staring off into space as though he saw something out there that normal people couldn't see. Well, he never did figure out how to have a conversation with Ponyboy Curtis, and he was having a bitch of a time figuring out how to relate to his own kid. He hoped to have it figured out by the time the kid turned eighteen.

He shook his head and grinned slyly, wondering what his seventeen year old self would think of the man he'd become. Hell, he still couldn't believe it himself.

He came to a crossroads and stopped. Pulling over to the side of the road, he turned off the engine and pulled out a cigarette. It was going to be dark soon, the sun sliding toward the horizon, edging everything in gold. He tilted his face toward the sky. _If you close your eyes, _he thought to himself, _you can actually feel the sun set. _The warmth slowly faded, replaced with a serene coolness, calming the wildness inside him - softening his hard edges.

He pulled out a folded piece of paper from his battered leather jacket. Yellowed and brittle with age, the letter was still wrinkled in spots from when he had carelessly tossed it aside. He could still remember how his hands shook after he'd finally retrieved it from the corner of the jail cell. How nervous he'd been as he tried to flatten it out, tried to repair the damage he'd done.

He didn't need to read the letter to remember what it said - he'd memorized it years ago. But looking at it grounded him; the careful, thoughtful handwriting reminded him that he could be a good person, that he didn't need to be consumed with hate and anger.

_There's still lots of good in this world,_ he read. _Tell Dally, I don't think he knows. _

A warm smile spread across his face as he gazed at the setting sun. _Johnny, man, I know._

Carefully, reverently, he folded the letter and placed it back in his jacket. Tossing aside his cigarette, he started up the motorcycle.

Looking at the crossroads, he weighed his options. He made a few quick calculations in his head and, decision made, turned left. He'd call his wife to explain as soon as he came across a pay phone - she'd understand.

The road opened up before him. A surge of excitement welled up inside of him and he finally understood what it meant to be gold. _It only took ten years, but sometimes,_ he figured, _these things take time_.

As long as his luck held out, he should be in Oklahoma by tomorrow night …

**The End**

**

* * *

**

_O_

_O_

_O_

_O_

_O_

_A/N - Thank you so much to everyone who has read this and reviewed it over the years. I had a great time writing it and made so many friends because of it. I really wished I could have properly ended it, but I think that this at least wraps thing up. After all, nothing better than the image of Dally riding off into the sunset on the back of a Harley._


End file.
